There was always someone who thought they had it figured it out. They all had the same cocksure smile, the same glint of forbidden knowledge behind their eyes, as they came knocking on my door. This newest visitor was no different.
He wore a leather jacket and had a face full of piercings. His hair was shorn short on one side, but long enough everywhere else to fall into his eyes. A goatee completed the look, and I imagined he thought himself a real edgy soul.
He appraised me. Mandrake the Magician T-shirt, cargo shorts, tattered bathrobe, sneakers. He smirked. I ignored that. He’d figure it out.
I took a sip of my Irish coffee in my favorite “Ketumati is for Lovers” mug. “Something I can do for you?”
“I’m here to learn,” he said.
“Who says I’m here to teach?”… Read the rest “An Endless Search”