He was dressed in all black - with a white striped shirt and a white polka dot tie. He wore sunglasses and a black hat, he had shades on and with his dark chocolate skin, he was quite the dapper standout. He kept stumbling up to people and talking. I was intrigued. Finally I went up to him.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sorry, I only speak English.”
“Oh. New York.”
“Yeah, what’s your name?”
“Carlos. But you can call me Charley.”
“OK. Do you want a drink, Charlie?”
He touched my hand.
“Keep Cool, Brooklyn,” reading my shirt.
“I’m cool, I just wanted to buy you a drink and find out what your deal is. Are you from Rotterdam?”
“You and me. We fuck.”
And I walked away. I had wanted a story, instead I got a proposition. I guess I got a story, after all.