I left my apartment this evening around nine. I wasn't planning on going far. Just to the corner store.

'Jack fell in beside me with a nod as I left the parking lot. I wasn't surprised; I'd heard him coming up behind me. The clump and tap of his boots on pavement is all but unmistakable.

"Evening, Simon," he said (but of course the name he used wasn't Simon. He spoke my true name, the one that only a handful of people know, the one that sends a shiver from my nose to my toes). "How's the knee?"

"Fair to middling." I paused, then shook my head. "Actually, that's bullshit. Most days it isn't worth a plugged nickel. I did a Hell of a number on myself."

He nodded, unsurprised. "Going far?"

"Not far Jack. Just around the corner to pick up a bottle of wine. What brings you to town?"

He shrugged, and for a moment the movement of his thin shoulders made his trenchcoat bulge and ripple in a strange way. He was smiling, but his eyes were hidden by the tassel of his hat and by the errant curve of tangled purple bangs that peeked out beneath. "The same thing that always brings me to town. The road." He put his foot down heavily, heel-toe, clop-tap, emphasizing the simplicity of his point.

We walked in silence for half a block, and the night was full of moonlight and cool wind and the shapes of trees. When we reached the corner, Jack slowed his pace to look up at the sky, then down at my feet. "Daytime shoes," he said with disdain. "Working shoes. Does sitting at a desk suit you?"

Now it was my turn to smile a smile that left my eyes in shadow. "It's not so bad. I move around, Jack. I move around plenty."

"Glad to hear it." By this time we were almost at the liquor store, and I knew what the next question was going to be. "Walk with me awhile? Maybe to the edge of town? Maybe a little further?"

I smiled and shook my head, glancing down at my shoes. My working, daytime shoes. Dressy, with black nylon socks. The shoes weren't quite as bad as Jack made them out to be, but if I walked with him tonight the trip would shred my socks before we reached the halfway point. I'd be bloody by the time we made it home. It had happened to me before. Sometimes, in fact, it was a necessary sacrifice. But not tonight.

"Not tonight, Jack. I'll catch up with you sooner or later though."

"Maybe so." He was already turning away. "And then again, maybe not. Have a good spring Simon. Alexander will be along shortly... tell him I'm sorry I couldn't wait for him."

"I'll be sure to pass the sentiment along. He'll be thrilled." The shadows were already claiming Jack's outline, but his footsteps came echoing back to me for much longer than they should have.

When I came out of the liquor store a few minutes later, he was already gone. Blocks away by now, or miles.

I walked home, barely aware of my busted out knee for the first time in ages. Now I'm waiting... and drinking. Drinking quite heavily in fact.