Findin' out how to do a blogger post.

Free-Write, ten minutes, don't move to hawaii.

We passed him three times that week---It was a busy week and we drove past costco more than usual, or we might not have noticed. The first time you see someone walking beside the road, if you’re going to other direction, you might note them, but not stop. The second time, two days later, it seemed a little strange: Same clothing, a white shirt, shorts, and worn tennis shoes.

The third time, we stopped, got a better look--He didn’t want a ride, refused to make eye contact, blue eyes wild and darting from side to side, gesticulating at nothing, no verbal answer, just a shaken head and resolutely walking forward. 

Asking about him, later, it seemed he’d been walking (and re-walking, and re-walking, that same stretch of highway every day.) He would walk up one side of the road, and back, spending the entire day under the sun, and from most accounts, the entire day waving his hands frantically, and always, always, always, refusing an offered ride. 

If it hadn’t been for the unwillingness to talk, or perhaps the way he never stopped moving his hands, I’d have assumed he was training for something.

Weeks wore on. He turned darker, his fair skin turning nut brown in the daily sun. 

Every day, He seemed to get skinnier.

 We did not know where he stayed, or who he was, or why he walked.

Every day, he walked.

Eventually, his shoes wore out, and he was barefoot on the pitch black tarmac.

Everyday, cars passed him.

He was young enough that it seemed certain that there were people somewhere that might want to know where he is--as opposed to the older set, where there might not always be someone.

“Do you know why?”

“Bad acid trip,” averted eyes, someone knew why. The topic of why was always quickly shuttled to the side, as for all intents and purposes, we essentially watched someone walking themself, slowly, daily, resolutely without communication, into death.

Having bought new shoes, one day, my friend stopped and offered him his old ones. He didn’t take them.

And then, One day, he was simply no longer there.