Five Gallon Jug

You were at the corner of Octavia and Page Street. I was walking westwards up Page, towards you.

You carried a skateboard in one hand and a big empty five gallon jug in other.

You threw the jug down hard on the road, and then you yelled:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The Asian couple next to you walked a little faster.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The couple was nervous now. You picked up the jug and spoke in a normal voice. Sorry! Don’t mean any harm! I’m just yelling! You laugh to yourself. You know! Just yelling! Your shirt was stained and you had a musk. You hadn’t washed or showered in a few days. But still, you were glowing.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I reached your corner and looked at you. I was just curious. I didn’t expect you to catch me but you did. You went quiet. We paused there for a moment, not moving, not saying anything. Just looking at each other strangely.

Then, suddenly, I felt I knew you. That, somehow, we were alike. That, maybe, I actually knew you better than everyone else I passed that week.

The moment I thought this, you smiled a big and round smile, and walked up to me. Before I could react, you took the back of my hand and placed it against the side of your face. You closed your eyes, and you held it there for a moment, like I was your grandmother. Then you dropped your skateboard and skated away, not saying a thing.