"It gets very lonely, sometimes . . ." the old man managed to say weakly. "I suppose it does." A flat statement, made in a very flat voice.

"I. I... like you..."

"I like you alright, too, I guess . . . Got a cigarette?"

"I wish I weren't so old

وو

"You're not that old-not too old . . ."

"For what?"

"You got a place where we could go? I ain't got no place-yet-for tonight...

"Did you mean it-that I'm not too old?"

"For what? To have sex? Hell no."

"Is that what we're talking about?"

"Isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"You know it is. And that is absolutely sure!"

“All right, I have an apartment . . . not far from here . . ."

"Now, I want you to get one thing straight-I ain't no hustler . . .” "Have I indicated that I thought you were?"

"No."

"Well, then, if you say you're not, I believe you." "Okay. You sure you want to have sex with me?" "My apartment isn't far.

"But you want me to have sex with?"

"Yes."

"Okay. If you're sure that's what you want."

"If you want it, too. I'm sure, if you are."

"Oh, I'm sure enough . . . I always am-of what I want to do... How do you know I'm not a dangerous character? Maybe a cop?"

"Are you sure I'm not?" the old man laughed, "So you take a chance on me; I take a chance on you . . .and if we lose, does it really matter that much? No matter how little or how much we want out of this life, to get anything, involves a risk-of some kind."

"So, let's go."

They left the bar. Suddenly silence between them, that peculiar silence that one often observes between men when they have met, decided upon this course of event between them. As though either there was nothing more to be said, or each suddenly falling into deeps of his own mind. As though decision swept away all that goes before as mere facade, fake, and illusion, for reality too immense and serious to be commented on.

Out in the bright sunshine, they blinked, and moved off into the crowd together. As they proceeded along the street, two uniformed police officers were coming towards them. The arrest transpired quickly, scarcely before the older man could realize it was happening to him. It was like a film that had come to the end, now the last of it clicking over and over again, crazily, on the spinning reel. He could not think. He was given no time for it. He could not grasp it. He was given to chance to. He could not feel. It was all a long way off. He filled with a great numbness.

no worry about false arrest, or any bullshit of any kind. I've got the son-of-a-bitch on tape . . ." the young man was saying. And the clicking handcuffs were happening to someone else.

He was just an innocent and curious bystander.