excerpt
Two adolescents joined them. The boy bounced a basketball, oblivious
to the vista. The girl leaned against the car, gyrating to head-phones.
I moved to the edge of the property for a better look. House hunters,
I presumed; the Project, gentrified now, was crawling with
them. But when returning to the car, the man glanced my way. There
was no mistaking that stain. It covered one eye like a splotch of
paint. He seemed to recognize me, although I can’t be certain. He
appeared to nod his head, but that also might be interpretation.
I could have made some calls and verified his identity, but I didn’t.
I preferred to believe it was him. Returning to a place that had meant
something once. Because it’s what I did. It’s who I had become.
Manolis Aligizakis 