Sure enough, a shifty looking crowd of guys was watching us. I can remember the lurid brightness of the fresh ink of one of the boy’s brand new tattoo.
“What?” I said, “That’s stupid. What age is this?” You see I am white and David was black.
“You’ve got soul,” laughed David, above the crushing noise of the line machines.
But after that I didn’t talk to him again. The next week I left to go on a trip to California for a friend’s wedding, and after I came back, I never saw him again. But I will never forget him.
Now it is 2014 and I am writing about this for The River Reporter. And I’ll ask again: What was your first job?