Ambush on Broadway.

I was walking along, minding my own business. I guess it’s my own fault. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. I should have crossed the street and not looked at all. I am taking responsibility for my own actions, believe me. I just wasn’t thinking, that’s all.

All of a sudden, they’re right there in front of me. There’s no last-ditch crosswalk to get me across the street. If I turn around now, they’ll know I saw them. The only option is to run out into traffic, and I’m not going to do it. Why does no one else see my plight?

I face them. I know I can’t show weakness. They run in packs, and they have some kind of inner sense that knows when they can get you.

They approach. I look pleasantly disinterested, but it’s not enough. They hold up their little boxes. “Would you like to buy some Girl Guide cookies?”

I am undone.

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