a very nice restaurant in Hobe Sound, Florida. We were sitting at a high-top
table, waiting for our food to arrive, when a man came over and said to Michael,
“May I ask you a question?”
evening, he was dressed in sandals, jeans, and a gray hoody.
jeans, and tennis shoes. The portion of his skin that showed was covered in
tattoos. He looked to be in his mid-sixties. At one time, he was probably a
really great looking guy, judging from his bone structure. However, like a lot
of Floridians, he’d baked himself in the sun too long, so his skin was wrinkled
and textured like a Coach purse.
I smiled at him encouragingly. He’s my baby boy, no matter how big he gets, and
I love him.
house in that hoody, I will shoot you.”
I was hearing. Fortunately, I know the restaurant owners, and I knew they would
intervene if I asked for help. But I didn’t want to make a scene. Once he had
said his piece, the man wandered off.