This man this black man from the projects across the street was standing next to my open window.
"Hey," he said.
I started to back up. I wanted out.
"Hey hey hey!" He said. I finally turned and looked him in the eye. He wore old clothes and had old eyes but he probably wasn't that much older than me.
"There's a car behind you," he said.
I glanced behind him and, sure enough, a car tore around us and skidded up the street. I felt my fear dissipate, slowly being replaced with embarrassment.
I looked at him, still unable to speak, but my eyes said thank you.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, smiled, and said "I'm cool, I'm cool."
The man nodded and turned to walk back to the projects, his home. I drove down the street, found a place to park, and headed back to mine. Our homes are still separated by Buchanan Street, but now they felt a little closer together.
Where do you live?