chance for a job, I was as close to penniless as a man can get.
25
“Negro so poor,” my uncle Brent used to say of his less-26
fortunate brothers, “that he’d sell his shadow just to stand S 27
in your shade.”
R 28
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Walter Mosley
1
The weather was pleasant. I went to the end of the pier 2
and looked down at the tiny fishes coming up to get 3
warm in the weak sunlight. Two small jellyfish were wav-4
ing in the current. I sat on the edge of the big concrete 5
dock and stared down at the water. That was 10:45. At 6
12:15 I was still there. From the time I was a child, I’d 7
have moments like that. In class if I saw something inter-8
esting, usually something natural, I could stare the whole 9
period long. I never thought anything at these times. I 10
just stared at the spiderweb or the furious bird making 11
her nest. One time I watched an ant search the entire 12
third-grade floor for nearly an hour. She finally ended up 13
under Mrs. Harkness’s shoe. I was so shocked by the sud-14
den death that I broke down crying and was sent to the 15
nurse.
16
17
18
I hadn’t been in the bank since I was laid off nine months 19
before. Arnold Mathias was still at his post by the door.
20
Less a guard than a greeter, he knew everybody’s name 21
and any special need that he or she might have.
22
“Hello, Millie,” he said to the octogenarian Mildred 23
Cosgrove, who doddered in before me. “Mr. Hickey isn’t 24
in today. He’s got flu, I believe.”
25
“Oh,” the old lady said. There was shock and pain in 26
her voice. While she stood there, Arnold looked over her 27 S
head and saw me. He put up a hand, not in greeting but 28 R
to stop me until he had finished with Millie Cosgrove.
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The Man in My Basement
“Will he be in later?” she asked in a fearful, tremulous 1
voice.
2
“He won’t be back until next week, Millie.” Mathias, 3
himself in his late sixties and shaky, held out a hand to 4
