A man politely asks to sit across from me at a table in the library near the reference section.
“Do you mind if I have a seat at your table? I’m waiting on a fax and this seems to be the only place I can keep an eye on the fax machine.” The black man has a jean jacket and a gray hat with a construction company slogan on the front. He’s around 60 years old and has a few dark freckles under his eyes. He seems like a nice old man, the kind that sneaks his grandchildren cookies when grandma’s not looking.
“No, I don’t mind at all.” I said with politeness, but not inviting conversation. Continue reading