High Noon @ the Rochester Depot ///

A balding black man sits alone with a large roller bag.

Two women approach. The younger comes up behind him and slaps hard the back of his head. He turns and says nothing.

“You’re a disgrace. You’re an embarrassment to the family.”

The older woman has a phone on speaker and she juts it into the conversation. It squawks something. He mumbles something.

“Where’d you even get the money. You steal it?” says the younger woman.

He stares at the ground.

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I’ll let you back you in. You do this now. Don’t think I can forgive this.”

The phone talks more. He mumbles something more. The older woman walks away. The younger begins to leave, then pauses to look on him.

He says nothing.

She looks at the floor. She looks at him, says “you don’t even have a job,” and walks away.

Forty minutes pass.

A young man comes. They embrace, a male hug, fists to the back. The young man gives him money. They talk, shake hands. And part.

Another hour passes. He boards a westbound train.