The Eye of Fear Is a Blind One

When I was still in primary school, I used to be afraid the old elm on Jane Street would snatch me up. Its boughs were so dark and its leaves rustled menacingly. One day when I got back from school, mom was in the kitchen with aunt Gemma and she was crying. That was the day my father died.

When I was in college, I used to take Mission Street to get to my classes and I was always afraid some local thugs would mug me. Miles would usually give me a ride back so I did not have to be there after dark. One night, Rebecca was waiting in the living room to tell me we were through.

When I was working at Wall Street, I used to read a paper in the cab and worry about the market shifting from under me and wrecking all my portfolios. The cab driver was a Middle Eastern type, and I wondered what he was afraid of.

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