The guy was now happily walking toward her with a bounce in his step, almost dancing, whistling while doing so. There was something about him that made her uneasy.
He seemed a little too...cheerful.
She continued on her journey, focusing only on pushing the stroller. She could see her little boy's right leg dangling out of it, and his little head bouncing slightly as she peered through the mesh of the canopy.
It was a perfect day. The sun was out. The temperature was in the low-to-mid-70-degree range. She had rarely felt this relaxed and contented. That is, until she saw Mr. Fedora Khaki Shorts bouncing her way.
They eventually came face-to-face. Instead of walking past her, he had opted to stop directly in front of her, blocking her way.
"Good afternoon," he said.
"Good afternoon," she curtly replied.
"Perfectly lovely day, isn't it?"
"Yes it is." She paused for a moment, hoping that he'd just go on his way. But he just stood there in front of her, smiling at her. "May I help you with something?"
The man knelt before the stroller.
"Well hello!" the man exclaimed. "How old are you, young man?"
"I'm almost seven," answered the boy.
"Seven? You're a little old for mommy to be pushing you around in a stroller, aren't you?"
"Excuse me?" asked the boy's mother.
"Mommy won't let me walk when we--"
"Be quiet, Alex!" she snapped at the boy. "Do you mind? We have a play date to go to." She quickly pulled out her phone and checked it. "And we're already three minutes late, so--"
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to tell Alex something."
"Do you mind? Please get--"
"Always remember this, Alex: 'Memento mori'."
The boy giggled. "What does THAT mean? Sounds silly!"
"It's Latin. Do you know what Latin is?"
"No," replied the boy.
"Latin is a language that nobody uses anymore. It's what you call a dead language. 'Memento mori' is Latin for"--he paused for just a moment--"'remember that you must die'."
"What the hell---?!" shouted the boy's mother. She angrily jolted the stroller to the side of Fedora and moved past him, jostling the boy around like a sailor trapped on a ship in a storm. She then stopped and looked back at Fedora as he got off his haunches. She coolly locked her eyes with his.
"I could call the cops, you know. Saying such things to a child!"
He simply smiled back at her and began whistling again. He happily went on his way with that cheerful, dance-like walk of his.
Such people, she thought. So goddam irritating.
