You see him in town and you think he was just another goddamned bum.
Torn camo pants, heel-down boots, a grimy backpack, hair stuffed into a watch-cap.
But step out of the city and you’d learn different.
Once he hits forest he just disappears, moving across the country with all the noise of an owl gliding between tree trunks.
We were in his camp, so well-hidden you might walk through it without knowing.
I was trying unsuccessfully to get him to take a cellphone.
“It’s just for emergencies,” I said.
“What emergencies?”
“If something happens.”
He smiled. “Everything always happens.”
An interesting tale with a message to never judge a book or person by their cover or clothes. Well done.
“Everything always happens” . . . to someone somewhere. And for him, there’s more to life than fearing the worst. A wise man.
pax,
dora
Brilliant.
I like how you flipped the script here.
I really like this story – could there be more, perhaps?