Howard reached into his pocket slowly with one hand to take out his money. He had forgotten what it was like to have the neighborhood bully take his lunch money. Youth wasn’t as idyllic as he had pictured it as an adult. Sure, his responsibilities were fewer, but many of the fears of childhood were as real as the concerns of adulthood. Howard wondered what other memories of terrors from his salad days had been mercifully suppressed by his unconscious mind. Urban life for children had become more vicious that it had been when he was young. At least then, the bullies threatened with their fists rather then knives and guns. Just as he withdrew his hand with all of his money gripped in his fist, he heard Anita’s voice saying from a few feet away, “Howard! It’s time to go home! Don’t dawdle, Dear, it’s late and I want to get dinner started!”