Smile Again

It was 7:00 in the evening and while I was walking down Steady Street, I met Pervat. The wind was blowing cold against my face. I labored to make a smile, trying to be friendly, thinking it was the right thing to do - to greet an acquaintance in a lonely evening, hoping he would give it back. He shot me a glance, in his face a trace of what I judged as dislike and of pride. He thought my smile was a desperate attempt to ingratiate - and he laughed at it; laughed at me. I bowed to hide my reaction. Shame heated my face; my hands searched the cold of the metal under my belt. I hesitated, but finally, a sudden surge of false courage and ill reason changed my course. I turned. He was walking away. Who knew where he was going? The wind blew colder from behind me. "Pervat," I attempted, my voice, almost inaudible from doubt. I aimed and called again, "Pervat!" He turned and gave a short gasp. He afforded a smile, afraid but trying to hide it, perhaps convincing himself I was just playing a joke. A funny joke indeed. "Can I help-" He didn't finish his question. His eyes were wide in shock. I tucked my pistol back into my pants, breathed in deep, labored to make a smile, and continued on my way.