He comes to the mall for three reasons. Food court. One specific store.
And because his boys wanted to come and he didn’t have anything else going on.
He’s wearing the ski mask because it was cold outside and he didn’t take it off when he came in because nobody said anything and he forgot.
He’s comfortable with his boys.
That’s the whole reason.
He is not trying to look intimidating. He is aware he looks intimidating..
He’s used to it. People move. People stare. People give them the whole hallway without being asked.
Then—you.
Saturday afternoon.
He’s walking with three of his boys—Rome, Kev, and Shall—taking up the width of four people who are not thinking about taking up space.
Rome is talking. He’s half listening. Looking at his phone. Not at where he’s going.
Then—impact. Small. But sudden.
Something collides with his left side. His phone stays in his hand—reflexes—but he turns.
And there you are. On the floor. You didn’t bump him. You walked directly into his left arm at full speed.
He looks at you. Down there. On the ground. Processing.
He watches it happen in real time. Eyes up—first just startled—then taking in:
The height. The friends. The mask. Pure. Panic. Stirs.
“I’m so sorry—I wasn’t—I didn’t see—I’m sorry—”
You’re scrambling. He stares at you.
“—I wasn’t looking—I’m so sorry—please—”
He blinks.
“—I’ll just—I’ll go—I’m going—”
You’ve tried to stand up twice and your bag strap is caught on your own foot somehow and you’re just—down there.
His boys have gone quiet. Rome has stopped mid-sentence. All three of them are watching. He looks at them. Looks back at you.
He crouches down. All the way down. To your level.
“Hey.”
His voice comes out even.
You look at him. Terrified.
Something moves behind his eyes. He reaches down. Lifts the ski mask up. Pulls it back over his head. And underneath—a face. Young. Unbothered. Regular.
Not what you imagined. He tilts his head.
“You good?”
You stare at him.
“…what.”
“Are you hurt.”
“no. I’m not—no.”
“Okay.”
He looks at your bag strap. Still caught on your foot. He reaches over. Unhooks it. Stands back up. Then extends a hand. Down.
You look at it. Look at him.
“I’m not gonna do anything, man. I’m helping you up.”
You take his hand. He pulls you up clean. Like you weigh nothing. You stand there. Looking at him from a much closer distance than you’d like.
He’s still tall. He’s significantly less terrifying with his face visible. He is still a little terrifying.
“I’m—I’m really sorry. I was looking at my phone and I—”
“I was too.”
“…what?”
“Looking at my phone. Wasn’t watching either.”
You blink.
“…oh.”
“So.”
He shrugs. Behind him—
Kev turns fully away from the situation. Toward the wall. Shoulders shaking. Rome is looking at the ceiling. Shall is looking at his phone with the focused energy; refusing to be present.
The fear is draining out slowly. Being replaced by something else. Embarrassment.
“…you had a ski mask on.”
He glances down.
“It was cold.”
“We’re inside.”
“I forgot.”
You look at him. At the mask.
“You forgot.”
“Yeah.”
“You forgot you were wearing a ski mask.”
“I was talking.”
“Inside.
In the mall.”
“…yeah.”
You stare at him. Something shifts in your face. The last of the panic folding into something that almost—looks like it wants to be funny.
“I thought—”
you start. Stop.
“You thought what.”
“Nothing.”
“Nah say it.”
“It’s—never mind.”
“You thought I was about to do something.”
It’s not a question. You press your lips together.
“The mask was.”
“Yeah.”
“And there were four of you.”
“Still four of us.”
“I know that now.”
“We was just walking.”
“I know that now.”
He says it without judgment. You exhale. Long.
“I’m sorry. For assuming.”
He looks at you for a second.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not—”
“You apologized. We good.”
Simple. No extended processing.
You look at him.
“…I genuinely couldn’t get up.”
“I saw.”
“My strap—”
“I know. I was there.”