Last week as I walked to meet a friend for lunch I had a curious experience.
I was walking down Fraser St, just around the corner from the street I live on, and noticed a prostitute also walking down Fraser St. I noticed a few things about her: the boots she wore, the way her jacket did not fit right, and the uncertainty of her path from the sidewalk to the middle of the street.
Soon, though, she was out of sight and I was lost in new observations. Until I heard her yelling a half of a block behind me: "BOBBI!"
She, the one with the scattered walk and the tired story, was yelling my name in the direction of a house. And she kept yelling it, with a touch of desperation and annoyance, "BOBBI!" "BOBBI!"
It is not every day you hear a stranger yell your name. I wonder how we were linked in that brief moment of happenstance.
