“Lost, my dear?”
The honeyed words, an echo from many nights past, were in sharp contrast to the deliberate pressure of the cold muzzle scraping against the back of her neck.
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There’s a time in every existence where the dizzying reality and uncertainty of the future comes to roost. The main culprit, or harbinger of doom for those with a flair for the dramatic, was money. Plain and simple, when a well dries up your possibilities tend to do the same.The repetitive clank of the metal spoon to chipped coffee cup was oddly comforting in the cacophony of this little hole in the wall diner in the middle of god-knows-where Ontario.
“Lost, my dear?”
The spoon fell mid-clank as the pixie-haired waif twisted to face the intruder. Forced back to reality, she eyed the speaker as the clamor heightened in a dizzying punch of sensory overload.
The crinkled sun weary eyes were startling in their familiarity. No names came to mind. No startling mnemonic revelations either. Simply an eerie familiarity that made any simple greeting stall on Kate’s lips.
“I prefer directionless.” She managed to stammer. Charming repartee was clearly out the window.
The stranger chuckled. His breath whistled at each inhale as he settled himself onto the other booth bench. He was oddly limber for a man who had at least six decades to the day. “Funny, you call it what you want. I know the directionless when I see one. Just like I know those clouds over yonder are going to spit something fierce in a few ticks. You get to be my age, my dear, and you can see a thing or two.”
