“Hey man, I know you.”
The grimy, unkempt man was sitting in the doorway of an empty club or restaurant in Ybor, insisting he knew me. Puzzled, I told him I wasn’t sure he did; in fact, I was positive we had never met. All the same, he persisted, this time, revealing his name, as if this would improve my memory.
“I’m Slope. You know me. Where you from?”
Now, this was perplexing. Of course, this man had no idea who I was. We had assuredly never met. If we had, he might at least have known where I was from. But still, oddballs and vagrants have always been drawn to me, and I was becoming confused by his insistence. Maybe he was gas-lighting me, or maybe he was hallucinating, mistaking me for someone he did actually know.
“Well, Slope, I’m not from here, and I’m certain I’ve never met you.”
“Yeah, man, you know me! I’m Slope!”
I told him awkwardly to have a nice day and walked off. He muttered something about drugs and what I think was a threat just under his breath, and continued sitting in the shade, under the awning of the empty building in Ybor. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away wondering to myself what kind of name Slope was.
-CM
Towers of Rust 