One Weekday Evening In June 1991, Pam (My Wife) And I Were In Our Apartment (Across The Hall From Jeff's, Apartment 214) Watching Television. Someone Knocked On The Door, And Pam Looked Through The Peephole And Announced It Was Jeff. She Opened The Door For Him. He Came In As Pam Sat Back Down On The Couch Next To Me. He Closed The Door Behind Him. He Was Wearing Jeans And a T-Shirt, And He Was Clean-Shaven As Usual.After Closing The Door, He Came Over To The Couch And Asked If I Had Ten Dollars To Lend Him, As His Wallet Had Just Been Stolen On His Way Home. It Was Almost Nine o'Clock At Night, And He Had To Be At Work By Eleven. I Was Worried He Might Be Hurt, But He Assured Us He Wasn't. He Said Two Black Men Had Approached Him As He Was Walking Down 25th Street, And One Of Them Had Pointed A Knife At Him And Demanded Money. He Gave Them His Wallet; He Said He Had About Three Hundred Dollars And That What Worried Him Most Were His Papers And His Identification, Which Were Also Inside.💵🪪
He also explained that it was the second Time he'd been robbed since moving to the Neighborhood. I felt a little bad because I Hadn't been paid that week and couldn't Help him with the money he asked for. I Asked if he'd called the police, and he said No, because they couldn't do anything, Which was true. Since he didn't have any Cash, Jeff just turned around, told me we'd Talk later, and left the apartment.After he Left, I thought about how well he'd behaved, Staying calm in a situation like that, being Mugged. Pam and I just accepted what Happened to Jeff as just another part of life In the dangerous Drug City Area.🚫🚫🚫
Across The Hall By Vernell Bass 📖
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