copyright Sandra Crook
I turn the corner and let out a primal scream. Then I take off my shoe and hurl it in rage. People look at me but then realize I’m a tourist and ignore me.
My girlfriend walks up. “What the— oh, it’s that pattern again.”
“It’s stalking me!” I wail. “It’s not argyle, it’s not plaid but I keep seeing it. The socks, the wallpaper, the hipster’s vest, that one Pinterest page, and now . . . this!”
“Just go ask,” she says.
I finally find an English speaker. “I don’t know its name,” the woman says. “We just found it on Pinterest.”
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for choosing my picture for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. This was taken in Jeonju, South Korea. Pungnammun, the historic south gate of the city is in the background.
He nodded when I pointed to the gate and proffered my camera. I walked towards it . . . and turned to see him take off running.
He picked the wrong tourist.
I screamed like a berserker and tore after him. He was almost at the road, a patch of wet cement between us.
That Nikon was two weeks old.
I made a flying leap and grabbed his ankle, just before crashing into wet goo. He flailed frantically but I death-gripped him ten minutes til the cops came.
We made the evening news.
I hear they put up a statue to commemorate it.