Try Not To Look

A backwards glance. Subtle? Absolutely not, but paranoia has been steadily rising. The footsteps are Running behind me now, closer and closer. Loud, in a ferocious Way. Am I going to get knocked down? Kicked? Accosted? I jump off the sidewalk, turn and glare at a young man in blue jeans who grins at me, giving me a thumbs up sign as he races past. Grateful the old woman had gotten out of his way, I am the one with wet tennis shoes, not him. A whole new perspective, Relaxing now, I stop clutching My purse.