ny 1962

Don't much care for being stared at. Especially playing chess. Children are the worse culprits. Two ways to deal with it. Stare back is the easiest, man. Or - "Here kid, 75 cents. Go across the street and git me a package of Newports".
"I'm not allowed to cross the street, mister".
"Take the dollar. Go on. Bring me back twenty cents. You can have rest for candy. I can't leave this game. Git".
Her eyes widened. Candy whats did it. Reverse psychology of ease of giving candy to a child.
"Here. Git".
She went. Crossed the street. Didn't look both ways. When the ambulance arrived he was at the corner, hands in pocket, watching the scene, trembling man. The mother was wailing louder than Times Square. Damn.

photo by Damien Derouene