He was unknown to us that night. A tall, dark figure framed by the lightning of an uncommon storm, the stranger tipped his hat, grinned, and then ordered a beer. He drank this with the eyes of the town upon him, wiped his mouth, nodded, then left.
"Bye," I said, out of nerves more than politeness.
He grinned the grin of a crocodile and winked. The storm swallowed him in moments.
"What did he say? What did he say?" asked the others once he was out of earshot.
"For now," I replied.
I shivered then though I didn't know why. I left in a hurry with no intention of ever going back because I was sure of one thing with a clarity like polished glass, when the unknown man did return, I wouldn't get the chance.