Banging my head on the palm of my hand, I only had one question regurgitating in my mind: How did I get here? …I can hear him on the other side of the door, pounding… then begging for me to get out…but I can hear myself repeating that question again and again…How the f$#% did I get here?

I met him at the library, seemed like a nice guy from the next computer over, for about 20mns I saw him attempting to say a word, as he was fidgeting around looking inside his bag, he finally gathered the courage to speak up: “May I borrow your pen?” he asked…I gladly gave it to him; he proceeded by engaging in small talk…by the end of our session, I’ve already known perhaps half of his life.

I believe his shyness went away when he finally asked me to grab a bite at the pizzeria next door. Dinner time was approaching and it seems like the black hole in my stomach would have had swallowed me whole if I didn’t feed it in time. I accepted his invitation.

It seemed like an innocent stroll, an exchange of pleasantries between two friends, I thought nothing of it. It was almost sunset, I had to catch the bus home. Respectfully he walked me to my stop, waited until I got on and departed safely…. “Pleasant man”, I thought to myself, “maybe there are some descent men out there after all”

The following days were nothing but phone conversations; he wanted to know more about me and I about him. As the days went by, it was only natural that he would want to see me, after all he had admitted his attraction for me. I just found it funny for a man that makes $75,000 a year to have a suspended license and his car in the garage, and yet to live on the 9th floor in one of Jamaica Queens’ expensive buildings. Then again such is life, unexpected events creating unfortunate circumstances. I thought nothing of it really.

Then it happens that this particular day, little did I know this would be the day I meet his true self