I was rushing from a downtown coffee shop to a hair appointment a few blocks away when you stopped me. “Hey miss, I must tell you something,” you said with enough urgency to make me pause. “Yes, can I help you?” I reply, thinking perhaps you needed directions or something like that. I should have known better. You grabbed my hand to shake and wouldn’t let go while you offered your dubious explanation for interrupting me. “I live around here,” you tell me, “and I saw you walking past, and I thought, ‘I have to get to know her.’” At that point, I narrow my eyes, put my hand on my hip and shake my head side to side. “Let go of my hand,” I demanded before speed-walking away from your creep ass.
I Saw You is an anonymous “man on the street” column. Email your rants and raves about co-workers or any badly behaving citizens to iS*****@*******ws.com, or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
