The Park Maniac Now

“You came,” the man said. His voice was soft, like worn felt.

Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. the park maniac

The Park Maniac took a step closer. “I don’t steal pets, Mr. Crane. I steal apathy. I steal the comfortable numbness that makes people walk past a bench where a lonely old woman sits every day without saying hello. I steal the silence that lets a man watch his neighbor struggle with groceries and not offer a hand.” “You came,” the man said

Arthur looked up. It had started to drizzle. like worn felt. Arthur’s mouth opened