A Stranger

I had met the man many years ago. He called himself a servant though his master had let him go. He claimed that his whole life was tied to a purpose. He served his master. That was what he had been bred and trained for. I wasn’t sure why this man was speaking to me, bringing up such things, as we both stood alone waiting for the bus to come.

He then turned his eyes away from me, his gaze reaching outward across the street, perhaps to scoop up the darkness huddled near the buildings. I didn’t ask him why his master had let him go. I wasn’t all that interested. I just wanted to see bus lights glowing into horizon. He then started to mutter something and his stare drifted downward. He was older, but not yet old. His best years were gone, but he was not yet done.