Four young men approach me, they smell of alcohol. One starts to rub against my back and blows at my neck. I’m one metre forty, he’s much taller. The rest laugh. No one at the bus stop reacts.
I move away, turn around and get my footing, legs astride, as if my feet sprung root. I look at him straight in the eye and say firmly, “Ain’t you getting too close?” The guy apologizes and leaves, apparently shocked. His friends follow.