Assaulted

Walking home late at night, ahead of me under the dim glow of a street light, I saw a man coming towards me. As he trudged forward, he spotted a jacket on the ground. People frequently scavenge around this part of town, so it wasn’t odd when he bent down, picked it up, and kept slogging along with his head hung low. Coming closer to me, I realized the sheer size of this man. He was at least a foot taller than me, and 100lbs heavier.  When he was no more than four feet in front of me, he jerked his arms up, holding up the jacket, and politely asked, “Is this your size?”  Confused, I replied, “No, it’s not.”  A switch flipped in him. He screamed, “IS THIS YOUR SIZE?!?”  He dropped the jacket and brought up his fists, his eyes pulsing with the unmistakable look of bloodlust. Within the span of two seconds, I checked the road, saw it was empty, and sprinted across while he screamed, “YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE.”  On the other side, I whipped my head around. He was still just standing on his side of the street. Without thinking I shouted, “Fuck you, man! Get out of here! Go home!” We stared each other down. Eventually, he turned away and moseyed along. I continued walking home, anxiously checking behind me every few seconds. After a few minutes, my adrenaline stopped pumping, and I began to process what had just happened. Two thoughts emerged. The first thought was about self-preservation. Had that hulk of a man not revealed his craziness and just kept walking until he was right next to me, he could have easily body-slammed me into the iron bars of the fence next to the sidewalk, knocked me off my feet, and then pummeled me to death. I’m strong, but there’s a reason weight classes exist in fighting sports. Upon thinking this, I suddenly empathized with the quiet and restrained terror women are forced to stomach as they stay vigilant of strangers who may suddenly inflict violence upon them. The second thought I had was about some vocabulary I learned in a business law class I