Strider
She watched as Strider turned the corner. It was raining, but that didn't seem to bother him. She reckoned that nothing ever bothered him really. She moved away and glanced around the living room. God, it was dull in here, she thought. The grey weather didn't help but the place sure could do with brightening up. She picked up a magazine that had been spread, and left largely unread, on the sofa for at least a week and in a fit of decisiveness threw it on the recycling pile. She walked back to the window and searched for Strider but he was gone. She strained up on her tip-toes to see if she could catch a glimpse of head or shoulder through the bushes and railings gamboling on up the hill. But that perennially walking man was out of sight. Long gone. Suddenly, she felt the irrational urge to go out into the street and confront him. Why does he walk around the town all day? Where does he go? Where does he live? Who is he? She figured he wasn't homeless. He looked healthy eno