Tuesday morning on my way to work, I drove along 2100 South, heading west. The traffic was kind of slow and I noticed a man looking into my car. He was standing on the corner. He wore an orange-brown t-shirt and he was in his fifties. He raised his right arm to me. I couldn’t quite tell what was in his hand. At first glance, I thought it was a long keychain, but the sun caught the symbol and reflected the sign of a cross on my eyes. A rosary. He held up a rosary at me.

I had passed him before I even realized what he held in his hand. I saw the dreadlocked man with the long beard walking toward the man on the corner. That dreadlocked man talks to himself and I pretend that I can’t hear him when I ride my bike. That day, I was in my car, safe. “I hope that dreadlocked man doesn’t bother the man with the rosary,” I thought to myself.

Why? Do I have a huge aura around me projecting an interest in religion? Can they tell that I categorize all humans? Gullible or Logical? He raised his hand to be counted: Gullible. The small, metal cross burned an image of itself on my eyes as it turned on the string of beads. I drove on, feeling jealous and thinking that he must have some sort of peace that I have never been able to find during my waking hours.