It was seven-thirty by the time I got home. The bookstore would open at noon today, so I had plenty of time to shower, make coffee, and wait for the stranger to appear. I had a good sense for people, and though he was distrustful, either by nature or circumstances, the chance of a bath and a free meal meant a lot to someone constantly on the road. He would turn up sooner or later.
When it was almost nine, I heard the rumble of a motorbike parking in front of my home. The property was across the road from the beach. Through my kitchen window, I watched the stranger dismount slowly and remove his head gear. His back to me, the man turned his head from side to side, seemingly taking in the view. It never failed to take away my own breath, and even someone as jaded as he appeared to be might
