He’d caught me in the library, reading an article online about race relations in the US. There had been a few incidents in the news—black against white—young men dying under circumstances that had people crying out.
“Mark my words,” Captain Falcon said before I’d even known his name. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
“I have that feeling too.”
Burly and tall, sweet and handsome, he sat down with me, offered me some Funyuns from his bag, and introduced himself.
“Captain Falcon?” I asked.
He explained about the pet store. “I love God’s fine feathered creatures. The kind up on two feet, them I worry about. We’re not always nice to one another.”
I told him a little bit about myself.
“Oh, I know what you do, Mr. Swimmer,” he said. “You’re the talk of the campus.”
“Beyond
