I see him every day, at least twice, in more than one place. Sometimes I pass him risking his life walking on the footpath-less road away from our street. Once I spotted him cycling away from the newsagent’s.
There are so many suspicious people, on mysterious missions around here. Today, for the first time, he was walking a brown dog. Where on earth did he get him from? You would surmise that my unanswered questions are building up into an irrational fear of this man. But I’m not so sure.
Terrifyingly, I think I saw him walking past our house once before, a couple of years ago.
It was the middle of the night when we woke to the horrific sound of thumps mingled with cries. A woman was repeatedly screaming ‘stop’, he’s my son. Leave him alone, he’s my son’. The son was only able to grunt as the kicks came, and came, and came. I looked out the window but could only see a blank street, quiet houses. Pressing one side of my head against the glass, I found the source – a young man curled up, motionless on the tarmac, with a few women in dressing gowns standing over him, one of them shouting ‘call an ambulance!”
At first, I thought there were no other men, but then, I saw him. He was walking with a spring in his step down the hill, away from where I thought he should be. But wait – he was leaving because he was the one who did it. I squinted to take in his appearance, but only caught his back – greying, closely cut hair, and a blue and white leather jacket. I’ve never seen that jacket again, but I’m almost certain I see the man. Every day, at least twice.