Someone’s got it out for me. Whoever it is, I hope they cut it out quick, but whether they will I can only guess. That man in the trench coat standing in the alley; is it him? Or that sweet-faced lady pushing the baby carriage down the sidewalk. Maybe it’s that old man feeding pigeons in the park. So many possibilities, none of them good for me. Perhaps that workman, painting the side of that old tobacco store, watching me intently as I walk hurriedly by. Then a car hits me as I cross against the light.