The Unexpected Visitor by David James

You’ll never guess who came over. I didn’t believe it. Not one person I’ve asked, and I’ve asked hundreds, could guess who came by my house today. In a way, it’s a miracle he came by. There, I gave you a clue: it’s a he. It’s something I’ve always dreamed about and wished for, but never expected to happen, especially in the middle of the week, hump day. He would not call it hump day, I’m sure of that. In fact, he may take offense at the term. My God, I’ve giving away one clue after another. Forgive me.

Let’s see, it was just after 11:00 and I was polishing my black shoes when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and was stunned. He asked if he could come in; I said nothing. He asked for a drink of water; I said nothing. He came in and helped himself while I stood numb and stupid-looking, which he could sense. That’s when he went downstairs, brought up a bottle of wine, found bread on top of my refrigerator. He gave me a sip of wine, broke a wedge of bread and said, “Do this for the remembrance of me.” And he left.

I guess I expected fire and brimstone, angels and cherubims; I expected singing and beautiful music, but it was just him, standing there in shorts and a Depeche Mode t-shirt, with his proverbial beard and long hair, asking for a little compassion.

David James‘ third book, My Torn Dance Card, was a finalist in the 2016 Next Generation Indie book award and the 2017 Book Excellence Awards. His second full-length book, She Dances Like Mussolini, won the 2010 Next Generation Indie book award for poetry. In addition to  Going Down, Friend in 2017, he has published five other chapbooks; more than thirty of his one-act plays have been produced from New York City to California. He teaches writing in Michigan.

*Photo by Annie Spratt