Tonight, around 1am, I met with a man who was angry. His bulldog, not more than a puppy, was running away. The man wanted to hit me.
I was sprinting because it is nice to sprint when it is late. The puppy was sprinting too. I stopped because I didn't want to collide with it. The man was behind, shouting at the puppy that he was going to kill it. I believed him.
The puppy was scared, and friendly to me. Perhaps he wanted me to do something. I did not know what to do. I carried on walking. The puppy didnt know what to do. It stayed where it was. The man was very angry, that he was not in control of the puppy and was hitting things on his way.
He stopped right next to my face. I looked him in the eye. His eyes were brown and his eyebrows quivering. I thought, maybe he wants to kill me, too. He raised a fist and I didnt have time to think anything.
His fist glided close by my face and hit the fence next to me. I was surprised. And relieved.
His hand was not bleeding. The puppy ran on. He shouted some more at the puppy and followed it, confident that he would catch it without rushing too much.
After that I sprinted very fast, for a very long time. I am scared and sad for the puppy, and it's version of normality.