Not that I came every week, but I loved this big maple. It was always cool and didn't rest on hot asphalt like the market tents. That shade allowed some hangers-on, like me, to sit and watch the interesting world go by. This always gave me inspirational fuel for the characters in my story.
Before long, I noticed an interesting fellow. Someone I'd never seen before. He stood tall and straight. Wore his beard in a three-day growth and his hair long enough to need cutting, but not so much to get in his way. Polo shirt, jeans, boots. Simple enough to dress that way. Inconspicuous. Like he led his whole life that way.
I wanted to know more about him. And so I left my chair there, with my drink by it's leg, and ambled on to fall in behind him.
The only problem was that he didn't talk much. Hi
