A Traveller in Time

I did not expect to meet a time traveller.

I told myself that I would feel truly at home in this new town and new country once people started asking me directions. Well, that has happened, once, maybe twice. What I did not expect was a traveller of time.

"What, wha' day is it?" the man asked, cautiously, tentatively pushing the question forward like a small tower of chips towards a spinning roulette wheel. He was placing his bet. He was hoping it to be a Sunday. But in his state, the odds favoured the house.

"It is Sunday?" he asked. "In'it?"

"Sunday, yes," I nodded. "The bus won't be here for a while."

"I was out last night. Drinkin'. With my mates."

"Hmmm," I replied, trying not to express any judgement or approval.

"Do you drink then?" he ventured, looking at me closely for the first time.

"No," I replied.

"Don't do it," he said quickly. And then, in a tumble of words: "It messes you up. I just live up the road. Three stops. Can't walk. Got to wait for the bus."

He paused. "Sunday, right?" he asked again.

"Sunday schedule," I agreed.

"No. Don't drink," he went on, talking to himself. "Next thing I'll be asking the year."