3.5

      “Pretty sight, no?”

      I jumped at the question and spun around. There sat a man, legs crossed and reading an old, leather-bound book. He hadn’t looked up from it, but I could tell from the way his body seemed pointed at me that his full attention was on me. No doubt he was expecting me to answer, but my mother’s words echoed in my head: Never talk to strangers. There are bad people out there, Sam, people that want to hurt you, but you’ll be safe if you don’t talk to them. I was old enough to know that sometimes that wasn’t true, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

      After a moment, the man’s eyes slid up from the book and rested on me. He snapped the book shut and set it next to him, then leaned forward as if he were examining me. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I now saw a bird resting on his left shoulder, which also seemed to be staring at me. I felt uncomfortable and awkward, but I also felt… curious. For one, the man didn’t seem very threatening; he wore clothes that reminded me of a play my school had put on a year ago, where it’d been set in the ‘20s and the poor men had worn corduroy pants with suspenders and grimy cotton shirts, though this man had an immaculate quality to his clothing.

      The man tipped his hat to me and smiled. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”

      My tongue caught in my throat. I knew I should say something, but nothing was coming out. I must look like an idiot!

      The man tilted his head as if he were curious. “Everything okay, kid?”

      “I – I…” If I kept on blabbering like that, then I would look like an idiot. I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m fine. I was just surprised by… by your bird.” Great excuse, moron.

      The man – well, on closer examination I couldn’t really call him a man; he must have been closer to his twenties now that I thought about it – looked at the bird perched on his shoulder and frowned. “Oh, this guy? Eh, he’s not mine. He just likes following me around s’all.” He looked back to me and smiled. “Got a name, or should I keep calling you kid?”

      Normally, I would have hesitated and cooked up some other name, but I felt a sort of pull at my heart. Something… compelled me to tell the truth. “I’m Sam. Or – or Samuel, if you like.”

      The young man’s smile grew. “Sam… Pleasure to meet you, Sam. My name’s Jack.”