I saw him again as I ran down the street with my brown pigtails failing behind me. He stood against the wall with imperious stance and wearing a permanent scowl on his mouth. His hand loosely held a cigarette. His trenchant eyes were hard as they regarded me cautiously as if I was time bomb ready to go off. It seemed as if he knew all my secrets, secrets I tried hard to keep silent. I took a moment to take in my surroundings knowing that even with the rundown houses and littered roads it was better than home. At home I was perfect. Perfectly silent and perfectly detached from the world. “Hello,” he said carefully as if I might explode any minute. “What’s up?” I replied nonchalantly or as close to it as I could get. While I waited for an answer I examined him; from his tanned skin to low slung jeans and leather jacket he look one hundred percent bad ass. But I also knew, from rumors, that he was dirt poor and a player. I wasn’t someone who liked to be played. “Whatcha running from?” he stated in a hard way. “The world.” “I know what you mean,” he replied intensely. “No, you don’t,” I said simply and walked away.