A man could be seen right at the center of that square. Differently from Clay, everyone looked at him when they crossed ways. It meant that they were sure that the man wasn't a slave, so they wouldn't get in trouble. Also, if they weren't hesitating in looking at him with those eyes of disgust, it meant that he was most likely a criminal.
Clay didn't know why. Until the present day, he wondered with himself what happened to him at that time. Maybe he was, in the deepest bottom of his heart, desperate because of the recent death of his friend and wanted to talk to someone. It could be his sense of justice as well, telling him to help that man since he was in need.
The possibilities were plenty but he never concluded.
The fact was that he kept staring at that man while walking slowly across that square. He wasn't paying attention to his steps at all, nor if he was bumping into people or getting pushed away from their way.
