It'd been six years by calendar since last I saw the old buzzard in the garish white suit and no, I'm not talking Tom Wolfe, an imposter. No one believed I'd met him downtown on Main Street, conversed idly, and wrote it down for posterity. But I can't blame you for doubting me. It ain't easy seeing an apparition in the flesh or as he told me then, "You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus."
So, I swear on a stack of Bibles. I'm not lying. It was him ambling down the Post Road again. I'd never think he'd make a return visit to our lovely little hamlet in 100 years. That's when a comet whisked him away to some distant cosmic body with Captain (recommended) Stormfield, as rumor has it. When I caught up with him in reflection, he appeared both annoyed and amused to counter me so soon.