“There’s safety in numbers,” he said to me, but I don’t think he really meant it. If he had, why would he be sitting on a bench in the deserted street at midnight, left foot tucked up under him in an ungainly parody of the stumpy wood duck at the park?
I don’t think the old man in the supermarket believes it either, walking around absentmindedly, oblivious to his gaping fly. He’ll buy the two packets of chips for two dollars, and feed five hundred calories to the appetite that demanded two hundred and fifty.
The mind wanders, at night.
Featured in The Breakfast Club.