The man down the hill

I knew better. I knew better than to say anything more than hello to the white-haired white man down the hill. He was walking his small one-eyed Rosie and I Lilith. I watched as Lilith sniffed Rosie, as she always does other dogs. He wished me a happy new year. I said something about the state of the world. "It's always been that way, and it always will be," he said. "I've been there and I know it." I asked what he knows, and his voice changed its timbre, turning to a growl. "They're ignorant, the rag-heads or whatever you call them. They hate us because we are." I told him he's a racist and turned to continue my walk with Lilith.