I was living in an upstairs apartment in a big white house on the North side of Buffalo. I was attending classes at the local college, and considered myself lucky to find the place. This particular area was beautiful, with gardens everywhere, and large isles in the middle of the streets that were grassy and full of trees, flowers, and other plants. The neighborhood was wealthy, except for a number of renters who did not always behave themselves properly.

I was taking a walk along the boulevard one day, just to see the sights, and I ran into a young, dark-haired man. He struck up conservation. He began telling me about screws and nuts and bolts, and how he put things together and took things apart at work. At some point I decided that he was an odd man; he had quiet spells, and kept looking at me when he thought I wasn't watching.

We walked onto one of the spacious isles. The man, retracing our steps, began looking around on the ground. "Are you missing a screw? A nail?" I said. He didn't answer. Just then I looked over to my right and saw the moon in the sky. It was a giant moon, a dull whitish yellow, and hung close to the skyline. I was filled with emotion. I looked down at the man. He was kneeling on the grass. I heard my own voice telling me, "Go ahead, stab him in the back, you know you want to." I knew it was me talking to myself, though it was detached in some way. "Take a knife and stab him!" the voice said again. I believe that if I'd had a knife in my possession at the time, I might have stabbed him. "I found it!" my companion said. He held up his watch. And it was still ticking.

We continued walking for a while, then I said I was tired and going home to lie down for a while. The man followed me. "Where do you live?" he asked. I pointed to the white house and he said, "Wow, rich."  I didn't tell him I was only renting an apartment there.

The man told me that he needed to make a phone call. I told him that I was wary about letting strangers into my apartment. He denied that he was a stranger and said that he really needed to use the bathroom. "My eyes are floating," he kept saying.

Halfway up the stairs, he turned and grabbed me, throwing his hands on me everywhere. I was enraged! I punched him over and over again, in the face, the neck, and chest. Bam bam bam!! He started hitting me back, but I kept punching him back hard. After half a minute of getting hit, he left - simply walked out my door without closing it. Didn't look at me or say goodbye.

Two weeks later, I called the man's number. His sister spoke and wouldn't put him on the phone. Suddenly she said, "What can you do about it now? What do you want to do about it now?" I took what she said to heart.

There was no point trying to harass him or push his buttons. I didn't need a knife either. But I'd still love to see that moon again, the orb that shone gold light on me, and came to meet me halfway to the ground. It was beautiful.