Unflinching, unblinking, he blocked my path. His face was mostly masked by a handkerchief. The knife that was being toyed with in his thick fingers glimmered in the sunlight as it was twirled so deftly. He spoke without any nerves, this wasn't his first dance in a New York alley-way, but it was mine. "Wallet, jewelry, now." Footfalls in the trash behind me told me I was surrounded. My hands shook as I handed over the goods, then like ghosts they were gone. I stood there sweating, shaking.

By mudslide, October 21, 2013.