"Jax, let's go for a walk."

I feel him brush against my right leg. I bend over and grab the leash that's in his mouth, feeling around I find the hook and hook the strap on the collar.

I open the door. The cold Manhattan air hit me. Mom was surprised to read that it was only 74° when we got in her car. I stepped out of the house and closed the door.

Not even three minutes into the walk, I realize I don't have my glasses on.

"Jax," I say, "we have to..."

"Aren't you a cute little dog."

The voice is male and very familiar.

"You have a cute dog," the voice says.

I try to look at the person, but I fail and face the ground. He should've said something else.

"Thanks."

"You're well...wait I know you."

"Excuse me?"

Aforementioned just got weird.

"We met this morning. I asked if the seat was open and then you ran into me."

"Watch where you're going."

"Oh yeah, you."

"Why aren't you looking at me?"

I look up and to the right of me.

"I think one of my contacts fell out."

"Do you need help? Because I ca-"

"No, I need to go, nice seeing you again. Bye."

Saying the word seeing burns. It was a lie, but I needed to get out of there. I don't need pity. Nobody needs understanding.