YELLING AT AN OLD MAN

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 24TH.

I head over to Luis’s for another day of work.

As I walk through the gate, I see him leaving an upstairs apartment. There’s a super-old African-American man leaning out the door on his walker, pointing his finger at Luis and hollering in the rain. Luis hollers something back that I can’t hear. The old man waggles his finger and slams the door shut. Luis hops down the stairs.

I don’t know what to make of it. It doesn’t look good when teenagers yell at old men with walkers. Doesn’t look good at all.

Luis sees me coming and waits for me to get to the apartment.

“Who’s that?”

“Mr. Graves. Family friend.”

Is he serious?

“He’s cool. We get in some arguments sometimes, but it’s all good.”

I make the choice to believe him.