"Four-eyes!"
I look around. I can't see who yelled that. I guess they must be yelling at me. It's pretty quiet, in the square, so I guess they must be yelling at me. Nobody else wears glasses around here.
"Glasses!"
There, up on the window. That guy with the baseball cap and he's holding a piece of scrunched up paper or something. What does he want?
Eh. It doesn't matter. Let's just try to ignore it. I have to get home, anyway.
I keep walking through the square. Trying not to look behind. He knows my legs are shaking. I'm sure he can tell. I'm sure he can see the sweaty mark on the back of my shirt, the sweat running down my neck.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, bum!"
What do I do? Should I run? He's all the way upstairs, but if I run, he can probably outrun me. And he might have friends.
What about this shop here. I will head into this bookshop and wait it out.
"Ha! Book shop tosser! Go read somewhere else!"
Let's see what they have on anti-intellectualism in here.
This is a five-minute freewrite based on the prompt glasses.