The man stood near the street sign, wrapped in a trench coat, as I drove through the intersection, his eyes following me and mine gazing at him. I had plans to deliver some drinks to my homeless friends, who lingered in a group at the next corner, so I kept going. After much laughter and chatting, the group dispersed, and I drove back up the same street. That’s when I noticed a guitar case resting upright by the stop sign, waiting for someone to come back and claim it.
I tried to remember if the man in the trench coat from earlier if maybe he’d stood next to a case. Or was I imagining it? Perhaps the guitar case had looked like a person, and I’d not even seen a real person. (Oh, how my mind works can be odd, if not unreliable. I was tired and preoccupied.)
I pulled over a little up the road, my car still idling as I sat there, wondering if I should return and get the guitar case. Not that it belonged to me, but it was all alone, and anyone could take it.
