Creepy neighbor

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One of my earlier memories is taking a short walk around the neighborhood with my younger sister. We lived in a small neighborhood which looped around on itself, and this was in the early 1990's, so it wasn't a scary thing to be doing. One path led around a bend by a small creek, houses to one side and a slope to the water on the other. We loved this route because there were dogs to one side, and frogs to the other. Both adorable creatures. So this day we were walking home down that road. Our home was right at the intersection of this street and another, and we were only about three houses away from being able to see home when it happened. It was not the sort of neighborhood where everyone knew everyone. Well, the kids were somewhat acquainted through school busing and summer meanderings, but we didn't exactly come to meet each other's parents, or the neighbors with no children. So we had no idea who the two men washing their truck were, and paid them no mind. I was on summer break, between fourth and fifth grades. My sister was on her way into kindergarten. The man who walked out to us was maybe in his early 30s. As anxiety runs in the family, we both froze. We worried why an adult was walking towards us, worried that maybe we'd inadvertently done something wrong. We watched and waited for some speech, some berating. We didn't expect touch. He put his arms on my shoulders and said nothing, slowly running his hands down my arms. Moving slightly forward as he went. I blanked for a moment. I couldn't understand what he was doing. Why his eyes watched my chest. Finally, panic and disgust set in, but not with the force I would wish. I took only a step backwards, hoping against hope he would not follow. No plan how to escape if he kept up. Fortunately for me, he was amused enough by this. He turned and walked back. He never spoke. I never heard his voice. My sister and I, both bewildered, finished the short walk back and, as children often do, said nothing. I never saw him again. I also never walked on the road that way again. I kept far into the grass, with room to run ahead. This was when I learned to fear for my body everywhere. When I learned I was never safe.