“You have?” I replied, not even trying to hide my confusion. “We’ve been waiting for you.” His baritone was as deep as it was soft. A soft smile of contentment lit his lips.
He brushed one hand over the other and then rubbed them on his jeans. His fingers were tinged with what looked like powder or paint. A man with skin darkened from either birth or sun, dressed in dark washed jeans and a smudged white T-shirt. Unsure of what to do, I waited, convinced for some unknown reason that the man was also waiting for me.Īt last, he straightened and turned to face me. The strangeness of the whole experience was too overwhelming. I remained where I stood, uncertain wanting to get his attention but unable to bring myself to move. He was focused on something hidden from my view, nodding to himself and humming a tune I couldn’t place.
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