You’re walking down the street when you hear the approach. Maybe it’s the clip of its heel or the clap of its bag. You turn, but it’s upon you. And then it’s gone. You’re left in its wake.

You are never safe – in the city, in a neighborhood, on a country road in Asheville, NC in July. It could be anywhere. It is a fast walker.

How do I know such things? Well, I happen to be one. Here are my woes: