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On a normal night, I wouldn’t have said anything. Didn’t want him thinking I gave a shit. It was a normal night. But I needed to hear something. Fuck. I drew in deeply from personal essays my cigarette and breathed out slowly. “Al.” There was a question in the name that I didn’t mean to put there. “Yup.” personal essays He met my eyes, and in that lighting that makes everyone look busted, I saw every personal essays wrinkle on his corn husk face, every scar, and every spot from years of sun. “Nothing, tío.” It wasn’t a lie. I had nothing to say. “Huh.” And he turned away again and left me alone with the jogger. He came back the third day, and the fourth, and the fifth. I didn’t really pay attention to him, but everyday he bought a Gatorade, gave the change to Al, and called some girl from that pay phone.
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