“Always run away from strangers coming close to you.” My parents would always warn me, striking fear into my tiny hazel eyes.

A decade later on a cold night, my friends and I were playing tennis in the street. Without warning, an angered man with a pink collar stomped behind, inching closer, seeming angrier by the second. The sinister stranger pulled out a black, satanic object. We screamed and ran inside. Time passed. There was no noise. We slowly peeked outside. The stranger seemed perplexed, holding his phone. Their excess fear had rubbed off on me. I was too afraid.