As the light changes again, I scramble out of the way of oncoming traffic. Back on the curb, I frantically scan the sidewalks in all directions for the man, or for anyone who saw what happened. He's gone, but the two phones remain.

Dodging honking traffic, I run back onto Post St. I retrieve Hannah's phone, and then my own, which I'm dismayed to see has a cracked screen. At least nothing more serious is broken. There's no blood.

Scoping the scene again, I realize there are also no witnesses, which is a scary thought. I'm a little shaken, I admit, but I walk across the street, sticking to the plan of a coffee run.

Two blocks away, after I order cafe au laits for Mira and myself, I sit and wait. Finally at rest, I realize I'm shaking.

Who the hell...

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