The man walked on a path that led to the horizon. He wore the contented nonchalance of someone on a leisurely evening stroll. His thoughts meandered through the hilly landscape, never stopping for too long on any one aspect of the man’s existence. Ahead, a village appeared, a relief in the fading light. The chimney smoke blended in with the pewter sky.
“Any room for a weary traveler?”
“There’s always room, these days. That darn economy.”
“That makes no sense. Surely a fictional village would not be affected?”
“Don’t blame me! Blame the author for his pitiful attempt at social commentary.”