I decided I wanted to walk downtown. I was wearing my gray jacket and was quite scruffy-looking, not having shaved in several days.

I had seen a dog running around a truck nearby. A little man who looked as if he were probably around 45 walked up and softly asked me if I had seen a dog around here. I wasn't very friendly to him and said, "There used to be a lot of dogs around here, but people have come in and stolen them."

I then asked him if he lived nearby. I wanted to learn if the dog was actually his. He said he lived nearby on Gallia Street near "Black Dave's."

I remembered a restaurant on Gallia Street which was owned by a black man. I looked at him funny and he said, "Well, actually it's a couple blocks farther than that."

His voice had suddenly changed and become much rougher. He had obviously softened his voice at first to deceive me. I decided he was probably just trying to steal someone's dog; I walked away.

I walked on. I might visit an old comic book store which used to be downtown. But I didn't read comic books anymore. I really didn't know where to go or what to do. I might just walk downtown; perhaps I would encounter someone I knew.

I walked past BankOne; Clifford was sitting in a restaurant inside the building. He waved as I passed. I tried to remember whether Clifford had gone to law school, but I couldn't recall. I remembered we had been good friends in junior high school. I walked past the door, but then turned back, thinking, "Oh, I'll just go in and shake his hand."