On my way back from the corner store a man stopped me to say that hands in pockets are a sign of sexual frustration. I took my hands out of my pockets and continued walking down the street. He walked with me, telling me that despite the fact that we was in his late thirties, young girls were still attracted to him. And he was tired of it. I looked at him. A clean dark sweater and some jeans. His eyes were yellowed and his breath stank. He asked to see my hands. “Yep,” he said, “stay off the…”

“drugs?” I suggested. “The Internet.” he finished, and we parted.