A man chased me out of my home with a gun at my back because of my identity. Today, it might happen again. I open my mouth, get stuck, and just stare at him. If he hurts me, it will break my heart in so many ways. Just when I start to stammer “never mind”, he reaches across and wraps one big, rough hand around both of my slim ones, like it’s nothing. His forehead creases as his eyes search mine. “Don’t be scared,” he says, squeezing a little.
