College & Shaw

Walking home from my Wednesday night screening, Twelve and Holding (interesting how the main characters of the film are twelve-year-old children, yet the adults get top billing) -- enjoying my last cigarette for the evening. Out of the corner of my eye as I'm crossing Shaw, a man turns around the corner and walks beside me. Not wanting to invite conversation from a stranger (there sure are a lot of chatty strangers on the street late at night!), I avoid eye contact. I walk a few steps ahead and hear a loud bang. On the second bang, my heart's gone up my throat but I still turn around (why? maybe I wanted to make sure there wasn't a gun aimed at my back). I see him bashing a car window -- successfully with the third strike. I keep walking, just a wee bit faster. That was it. He was gone. A thin layer of sweat had formed on my skin even though I was never in danger. I chucked my ciggy (in the trash, of course). The beating in my throat made it difficult to exhale.