encounter

I was walking back from picking up my new contacts, right at dusk, when a man walking ahead of me turned around and asked me where he could find the nearest pub.

He was carrying a leather briefcase over his shoulder, and bulging bags in each hand.

After I directed him two blocks over to the two pubs I could think of and then called him back to say that there was a restaurant with a bar just around the corner, he said, "I really want a cocktail, not a beer, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

He nearly ran to catch back up with me.

"I'm not weird," he said.

"Oh, I'm not worried," I told him. "I do kung fu."

"Are you carrying everything you own?" I asked him.

"No," he said, "but I soon will be. I'm going through a divorce. 21 years. We have two kids. They are 20 and 16, and they are doing great. I'm not doing so well. My friend is supposed to come pick me up, but I didn't like where I was waiting."

I left him at the entrance to the merrily lit restaurant with colorful lights hanging over the empty outdoor tables. He set down one of his bags to squeeze my right hand in his left.

"Thank you," he said.