It had been raining for days. A lot. He was cold and wet. All his things were as well.
The clouds and the rain made the night dark, and with a strike of luck he saw a barn in a lightning flash. The roof was leaking, but he found a dry spot in a corner. There were even some old sacks he could sleep under.
His wet clothes were hanging to dry, and he snuck naked under the dry sacks. It felt good. Last night he had been trying to sleep under some bushes, but the rain had made it impossible. It had been hard.
A roar woke him up…
Gerog came home from work, threw his bag in a corner and went out on the porch. He sat there for a while, listening to the silence. He loved silence. His note pad was lying on the table, he must have forgotten it outside yesterday. Lucky it didn’t rain. He made a little sketch. A sketch of a man with a big head and strange hair.
The phone rang. He went inside to pick it up. Wrong number. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and went back out. He looked at the note book. The sketch was gone.
That’s strange… He said out loud. He went through the pages, maybe the wind had turned them. Nothing.
Looking for me?
Gerog opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His sketch was sitting on the fence, smiling at him….
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