He breathed in. He breathed out. He breathed back in, again, and continued at this for a while, quite loudly and forcefully, as if to convince me of his ability to draw in air. Of this, I had no doubt, so I looked him right in the eye to remind him that I was waiting, and that more would be required of him than this. Choking in his fear, he gasped out his next few words.

"Good evening, my good, good sir. I beg of you, don't be angry with me, your devoted servant."

How had he served me? Surely that public spectacle he had been making hadn't been my idea? What was he getting at?

"I would ask you some questions", I began. "You slipped through my fingers most skillfully last time, but don't imagine that you shall do so again", I said, hand placed upon his shoulder, reminding him not to rise.

"I would know not to try. To where would I flee?", he asked, his eyes pleading with me for an undeserved pardon. "You are a compassionate man. Surely you will let me go home? I'm a poor creature, that's the truth."

"No", I yelled, my voice almost lost even to myself in the sound of a passing bus, "I won't let you go. This is the kind of encounter I like. You're a lucky catch for me. I congratulate myself."

Had I just said that? I would have to watch my words more carefully, but I was fortunate. So greatly did the beam in my young neighbor's eye loom in his sight, that he did not see the mote in mine.

"Oh, God, your heart is alive, but your head is a block of wood", he cried.

"Is this how a humble servant speaks?", I asked, letting a faint smile show.

"What truer servant is there than he who speaks the unwelcome truth in warning. How very sure you must be of your own good luck if you think me to be a lucky catch, for my own bad luck is like a great weight tottering upon a point, waiting to fall upon and crush he who is bold enough to lay his hand upon it. Good night, sir, and go in peace."

Would not the weight fall away from the person touching it, I began to ask, but I thought better than to indulge in such cleverness. "Right", I spoke, returning to the directness that the circumstances commanded, "if you don't give me an answer, I'll begin to yell here in the street, and all of the shopgirls that are coming, and all of their sweethearts waiting for them so happily will come running up, to see what accident has happened to cause such a commotion. Then I shall point you out to the people, and we shall see what judgement shall follow.

Some of which would surely be about me, I thought with growing embarassment, for this remarkable young man had begun to kiss my hands, as if I were a lover that he did not wish to lose. As I began to draw back for what I would have thought an eternity, I saw a glistening in his eyes. Was he crying? Then I remembered that I ought not make his weakness my own. I had a job to do.

"Please. Let us go over to the side street over there. I'll tell you what you want to know, answer all of your questions, please, just not here with everybody watching.

With a winter's full of lip balm beginning to gather on my knuckles from this child's fevered entreaties, I found myself glad to grant this petition, for those shopgirls and their lovers were starting to stare at me. As loudly I would have cried out, he had been louder still, so much that I had begun to wonder if he had ever known a quiet moment in his life. I nodded quickly, gesturing in the direction of a cul de sac toward which he had hesitantly started and thus, having signaled my acceptance of his choice, let him lead on.

Into the shadows we returned, a few onlookers watching us for a while, only a brief while, before losing interest and moving on. The night closed around us, and we were lost to sight.