“Some people got mugged at Grand Army Plaza,” Katie says, looking up from her phone.
That’s one of our usual subway stops, so I’m a little concerned, but we agree that a guy my size is unlikely to be mugged, all things being equal.
Later that night, we get off at Grand Army Plaza on our way home from a night out, and there’s a guy vaguely fitting the description of the mugger standing under the stairs looking like he’s sizing people up in a nefarious sort of way, so I point him out to Katie.
“Yeah, I like to make strong eye contact with people like that,” Katie replies, grinning sharply.
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