I was office-bound the Friday, August morning that I locked eyes with a passerby on the opposite side of the street. Already the encounter was strange; it was rare for me to come across anyone on my route to work. He was young, younger than me maybe, a high school student even, with half of his braids coming undone. We did not politely look away from one another; I watched him until we passed out of each other’s periphery. There was something about the odd, unhurried way in which he went by—he looked as though he were purposeless. Like he was going nowhere.
Where he was going turned out to be directly behind me. After following for a few moments with an uneasy closeness I was finding more and more difficult to ignore, he struck out and tackled me to the ground, both of us falling in the grass and the brambles beside a railway viaduct.