“Who I am?”

Did I have a secret he knew? Had he found my junior high yearbooks, the ones I’d scrawled nasty things about my classmates in and drew hearts around the boys who ended up being complete jerks? Did he know my parents? Did he meet someone from Smith, a place where everybody knew everybody?

“You live in my neighborhood. On the second floor of the high-rise off Abbott and 89th, next to the church. You dance while you’re out on the back balcony.”

I stopped in my tracks and shaded my eyes with my hand. “You see that?”

“Sure I do. When I’m on my bike.”

“You have a motorcycle?”

“No, a bike. I like to ride my bike. And yeah, you’re dancing. I always thought it was cute. What do you listen...

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