Representative
When the strangers came, I was watching television. There was no interruption to the program, and I was glad of that. In fact no one noticed them at all, except me.
Don't get many visitors these days since Lorrie died. And I eat all the eggs. We're high up here, just sagebrush and tumbleweed to keep me company. And the chickens. And now the strangers.
They'd been watching for some time, so they said. “Where from?” I asked. This is a wide, open, flat valley with distant mountains. No other shacks like mine for miles. My eyesight ain't so good these days, but I'd have surely seen them. They looked at each other. “We can't tell you that right now.”
We settled into a routine. They were pleasant enough to have around. And they'd brought food, all in cans, so I didn't have to fire up old Jenny. We just spent days talking. They were interested in what I thought about everything. The world, religion, politics, history, the future, you name it. I told them what I thought all right! I didn't hold nothing back. I ain't talked like that for many a year. Waxed proper lyrical, I did. It felt so good, I quite forgot to ask them what they thought.
One day, they said they were leaving. They said they'd heard enough and they'd come to a decision. And they left as quietly as they came.
I've not seen them since. Except that one time I thought I saw them in the crowd on television at that funeral. But my eyesight's not getting any better. The world's still going to ruin. But what difference can I make? I'm just one old man. No one cares what I think.