Who are you
I’m walking home late at night coming home from a movie alone foolishly through the city park. It’s past midnight, and a wonderfully full moon helps the streetlights in the park. Nervously walking, hurriedly along the concrete path in the lightly wooded park. I wish I had remembered to wear a jacket over my what now is too short white skirt and tiny green sweater that barely covers my breasts. I’m twenty-five. I know better than to be this foolish. A woman chuckled from behind me, ‘Now Baby,...