STORIES: The Daily Visitor

"I was sitting on the back steps like I do every morning, robe pulled around my bare legs, busy with a cup of coffee and the first cigarette of the day.  And I suppose, contemplating life–mine.  The man came up out of the thin strip of woods down below the back yard.  Normally, I probably would have jumped up and run back into the house and locked the doors behind me, but this guy was wearing a brown robe and sandles.  Carried a sack over his shoulder.  Bearded, longish hair–not long really, just badly in need of a haircut.  I sat there as he walked closer up the hill, because not only was it odd, he looked safe, serene, and he was very good looking."