At a Crosswalk

By Alexander Lazarus Wolff

I saw the man in a dream. His tweed 

jacket was threadbare along the length of the

sleeve just as I remembered. People rushed

around him like water tending to a stone.  I did

not know what to think at first. I thought perhaps

I was hallucinating, for I had not slept in two

nights. But as I scrutinized the lines creasing his

face, I realized  

that he was real. His aviator sunglasses

trapped my reflection, and I could see on

each lens my growing distress. The world

began to move faster — cars volleyed down

Lamont Avenue; the noonday  

crowd quickened to a stampede 

like people rushing out of a burning

building. But he just stood there, staring at

me. And I stared back, attempting to unearth  

whatever secret lurked behind those sunglasses.

About the Author

Alexander Lazarus Wolff is a student at the College of William & Mary. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in “Main Street Rag,” “Serotonin,” “Eunoia Review,” “The Plentitudes Journal,” “Remington Review,” and other magazines. You can find him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/wolffalex108/ and on Instagram @wolffalex108

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