A different sort of darkness

It was a very quiet neighbourhood shoplot. I go there often because I must. In the day, it’s a wonderful place. By dusk, it’s a different sort of darkness.

The two men on the bike were doing some turns at the parking lot when I drove in. I watched them watching me. And I watched them even closer when they made a u-turn back my way as I parked.

The back passenger, rather skillfully I must say, jumped off the bike as the bike went pass. He strutted my way. At the same time, the rider turned the bike towards the road exit and waited as his mate walked right up to my passenger side.

He peered in. The nerve of him. His nose barely 2 inches from my window. My eyes never left his face as my finger automatically went trigger happy with the honk. And I didn’t stop making a racquet even as the man walked away, hopped onto the waiting bike and sped off.

Whatever he was looking for he couldn’t find it. I think it was thanks to my mom’s hideous sunscreen blocking his view - a pretty good ‘accessory’ for women drivers to have on the passenger side window.

In no time, my friends came hurrying down, scouting the corners and waiting. But those men were long gone as all quick escapes were expected to.

It could have been something. It could have been nothing. Who knows? Who cares? But one doesn’t walk up to a lone lady driver and expect her not to freak.

How do I feel?

Resignation.

I am resigned to the fact that situations will only get worse in the coming months. The economy downfall is only at its starting point. People are going to get desperate. Desperate people do desperate deeds. Many are going to be looking for quicker ways out. If people are already siphoning fuel out of cars or stealing manhole covers, what else is next?

I am also resigned to the fact that desperate times are also sad times of distrust and deep suspicion. Every stranger could be a threat. Every kind gesture could be a scam. Every call for help could be fake. Fear is the bitter side effect of bad times. For that, we have the media to blame. We have the economy to blame. We have hundreds of those bloody parking-lot crime chain-mails to blame.

Because who is to say those men meant any harm?
a) Maybe he thought I was someone he knew?
b) Maybe he was going to ask for directions?
c) Maybe he was about to welcome me to the neighbourhood parking lot?
d) Or maybe he just wanted to see if my handbag was safely placed between my legs?

But whatever their reasons may be, unfortunately, these are times we cannot take chances.

Be safe.