He looks over at me, cigarette dangling from his lips, and stands up. He's half a head taller then me and looks stocky. I keep walking toward him, fast. "You have your things all over my car."
His eyes get wide, he starts apologizing and telling me that he was just getting his stuff together. He quickly snatches everything up and gets the hell out of there. I swear he looked frightened.
I was a bit confused because for all the world he looked like the sort of guy I used to hang out with, all rough and looking for the next fight. I'm not the biggest guy around, so I'm used to guys like that getting aggressive. It was rather dark and no one was around, but he split fast. I suppose he could have just been considerate, but when I went upstairs and looked in the mirror, I had a second opinion. The lady who had just cut my hair didn't speak English terribly well and didn't understand my instructions. I look like an off-duty cop. His "things" looked for all the world like a bunch of brand-new clothes, fresh off the rack. They did not match his down-and-out appearance. Hmm.