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Carlos has developed a new habit. He walks and walks around the city, without any particular purpose or aim (none that he can say to himself anyway).

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Certain looks he meets hint that he is on the right track, without ever an explanation given or a clear answer offered.
An old woman here, the young clerk at a boutique over there, the man all the way up the telephone pole (that sound he just made could not have been coincidence).

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Certain stories come to mind, some that he barely remembered just days ago. Creatures that he believed gone and far away are now before him (if he turns around at just the right moment), right here on the streets of San Francisco. And the hints keep on coming.

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The man giving newspapers away for free (didn't he make some strange sounds just after delivering his pitch?).
That woman at the ATM machine. Did she really have to exclaim "Poltergeist!" out loud just after counting her money?

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(Of course then she looked at him...)

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The people at the bank this morning had a certain way of avoiding him...and it took so long to get anyone to attend him.

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(And the attendant then said the account had no money in it...)

And yet, hint after hint, he still comes back every night to sleep in that same bed and dream, the same as always.


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