I reached out of my cloud of depressed gloom, set off by the exhaustion of a less than convincing performance, to lift the curtains I had borrowed from my aunt's house to let in some of the last rays of the evening's sun into my dark room and there he was. Black as night. Skin shining and with eyes so grey, they shone like flints of light. Eyes that were now focused on me with an intensity that was almost unnerving.
He did not move and neither did I. I wondered what he was doing there and if in some way he had been sent by forces unbeknown to me to send a message. I wondered if I should let him in and immediately chastised the lack of wisdom in that idea. What was I to say to this dark stranger, resident to the back streets and dark alleys of the neighbourhood. I had seen many times, skulking away with graceful strides.
I blinked and then he was gone. Just like he had come. His stay was brief. His presence much more lasting. I was left to wonder.
His name, his history and his destiny.
My alley visitor.