One man from the city, passing through, asked to see Brandon’s ID before he’d hand over his deposit.
Ezoic
“He made me show him three forms,” Brandon told me that Saturday, pulling weeds. He laughed. But it wasn’t really a laugh. “I didn’t have three on me. Just my license. He said, ‘You can’t be too careful.’”
Ezoic
“How did it feel?”
Brandon stopped pulling weeds. He sat back on his heels in the dirt.
“Like I was eight years old,” he said quietly. “Standing in that bank in Chicago. Holding my grandmother’s hand.”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t know it would feel the same,” he said. “Even now. Even knowing I’m the manager. Even knowing I’m wearing these clothes on purpose. It still felt like they were looking right through me. Like I wasn’t a person.”
“Now you know,” I said.
