“Human Nature”

People no longer crossed the street when they saw Johnny Smith, though some still hurried past. Their formerly overt questions had evolved to quick cuts of the eye or a twitch of the lip.

He tried to disarm with a friendly smile or a murmured ‘nice day’. Usually they looked away. Ashamed, angered, fearful at having been caught.

Did they know how deeply they cut him with their unspoken queries? How each one felt like an interrogation of his soul?

It was just human nature. How could he hate what was also a part of him? How could he not?