It was sometime during middle school. I feel like it was during the school year. I remember that the weather was pleasant, either spring or early September.

I was walking with Quinny, Nathan, and Elsa, my closest friends then and probably today. We all lived in the same cozy neighborhood of middle class families, five or so minutes apart from each other’s houses. Naturally we spent time together as a group and we were walking down to the park to the small coffee shop that had been recently established there.

After crossing the busy road, we headed to the wooden bridge that went over the train-tracks which separated the rest of the town from the park. The bridge connected to stairs which curled down to the ground.

I don’t remember what we were talking about, only that it was light and cheerful. Maybe Elsa and the guys were laughing about people they knew while I tried to understand the context. They had known each other since early childhood, and I joined their group in third grade. But they could usually make me feel included.

In the back of my mind I had something to look forward to. I’ve been that way, where if there’s something exciting waiting for me in the future, I can be more engaged in the present. Elsa and I were going to see a romance film I’d never enjoy now.

We had begun to descend the spiral of stairs and I noticed a man, mid thirties, at the bottom of the stairs. He seemed like he was waiting for someone. I had a funny feeling and as we descended and I caught him looking up at us, watching. Immediately I wanted to go another way. But I didn’t say anything. Once we reached the ground he was there, facing us. He stepped forward.

“I’ve just lost my dog. Have you seen him?”

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a cold wave rushed over me. Alarm bells were ringing. When I was taught about ‘stranger danger’, asking about a lost dog was the classic line of the abductor. I became instantly very afraid of him, and unthinkingly I backed up to the stairs. My friends calmly talked to him, but I hurried up a flight of stairs, staring down at my friends, willing them with my eyes to come with me.

It was strange. I was completely consumed with fear, only wanting to run away from the situation, from that man. Funny enough, I recall one of the thoughts that went through my head was I won’t be able to see the movie with Elsa (if that man abducted me of course). I didn’t register that I was with three of my friends in an open space- a safe public park. For some reason I don’t know, I had been terrified that something awful was going to happen.

Eventually I couldn’t will my friends with my eyes anymore and I called to them, yelling at them to hurry up the stairs to where I was. I remember being scared at how shrill and panicked my voice sounded as I yelled to them.

After a moment, apologizing to the man that they hadn’t see his dog, my friends came back up to me. At that point I sat on the stairs and broke down, crying. I’m not sure what I was crying about, but I couldn’t have stopped it. My friends comforted me, telling me it was okay. They saw I was afraid and didn’t judge me. They made sure I was fine before we continued to the coffee shop once more.

I had calmed down when we were in the coffee shop, talking and laughing with each other again. I looked out the window and saw the man. He was standing beside a woman and he had a dog on a leash. There had been nothing to be afraid of, I thought. I felt embarrassed, but said nothing to my friends about what I saw out the window.

Today I still don’t know how I was able to forget how safe my situation was, even if the man had been a dangerous person. The fact that I was with friends in a safe park had disappeared completely from my mind.

In the end though, I was able to go see that silly romance movie with Elsa.