The Black Uniform

The other night I was driving in the rain. I was on my way to a lady friend’s house to share some comforts. I was almost at her house when I slowed to make a right turn. The rain was coming down at a sprinkle, but the conditions were enough to bring a fog to my windshield and for some reason the streets seemed darker than usual.

I didn’t bother to put my blinkers on. I eased into the turn nice and slow. When shockingly I noticed a man standing three feet from the curb on the street. He was an old man. Dressed in black. He was wearing a black hat. And had a long white beard. The only thing I could see was his face. I slammed on the breaks and compensated the steering wheel to avoid hitting him. He shuffled back onto the curb to avoid being hit. The man was a Hasidic Jew coming back from synagogue. I nearly killed him. The black uniform at night was a down right danger for all parties concerned. The man could’ve used some blinking lights, or reflecting armbands, anything to keep the uniform.