Morning, Broad Street:
A man turns and looks at me as I walk past. After I pass, I hear him say to me, “White boy in a black city.” I keep walking.
Afternoon, Market Street:
A man is riding a bicycle on the sidewalk with obvious difficulty. It wobbles, and he half-falls, half-dismounts, leaving the bicycle lying in the middle of the sidewalk. Half a block later, he approaches some people walking in the opposite direction. “I left a bike lying in the sidewalk back there. It’s a good bike if you want it.” He keeps walking.