Brief Encounter

Brief Encounter

I was walking down 57th Street at lunch time in New York that day, dodging yuppies, tourists and people trying to hand me tracts and flyers. While I was waiting to cross Sixth Avenue, a smiling, white-haired grandmother type siddled up to me. "Do you work in New York?" she asked.

I considered how to answer. I was working in New York that week, but I usually work from home. "Yes," I said. I thought maybe she wanted directions.

"I live downtown," she said. "I like to come up here and walk around sometimes, but I live downtown."

"That's nice," I said. She kept smiling, this pleasant-faced woman who must have been in her late 70s.

"Would you like to come visit me at home?"

Loon, I thought. "Uh, I'm too busy today. Sorry," I said.

The light changed and I began to cross the avenue. She followed me and asked again if I wanted to come to her place. "Would you like to visit me some other time? Can I give you my number?"

I shook my head and looked away.

"Oh, all right!" she said. She turned around and stalked away.

All the lonely people . . .