True Story

As I sat in Wendy's, eating my lunch, I watched a man outside the window and across the street. He sat on the concrete, leaning against the back wall of a gas station, and probably had been there for a while. He had an old jacket and a cap, a full white beard, and a small bongo drum that he held in one arm and played with the other hand. He looked out across the small parking lots and just sat, not looking like he was going anywhere or had any reason to.

After a while, another guy came over to him and leaned over a little, talking to him. I was afraid he was going to try to make him move, because his shorts kind of looked like cop shorts, but he didn't. I saw the guy reach into his back pocket and pull out something roughly palm-sized and rectangular, and show it to the man, looking as though he was asking him something. There was some nodding, and a few more words between them.

Suddenly the guy started backing away from him. He raised a hand up, palm outward toward him to ensure some distance, and stopped on the opposite curb. He knelt carefully in front of the man and held the object up, squinting.


He took the man's picture.

Then he stood up again and left.