Stalker

The man quietly sat down on the bench, content but dazed, then started to look around to remember where he was. The high rise monuments of steel all around him were a stark contrast to what he had experienced a few moments ago, the beauty of the sun setting down across the ocean. The identical nature of the city blocks was enough to confuse any outsider, but he knew that was not the case with him. He has been living in this city for over 40 years.

“Another sign of the old age” he thought. Sighed. Reminisced about his past, how his body slowly faded away. His right lung and leg went first during the war, then it was his hair a few years later. His heart has been running on a pacemaker for a decade, the teeth were replaced sometime before that. Now his memories, his most prized possessions, everything that made him proud, fell victim to an aging brain. He looked around once again, this time noticed, standing nearby, a man a bit younger than him. But his grey hair, a scar on his face suggested he may be someone he could relate to.

“Hi there..”, he was interrupted before he could finish, “Beautiful isn’t it?”.
“Come here often?”, he followed up without waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I do. Never seen you here though” the old man replied.

“I am new around here, just came by last week” the younger man said still looking at the last rays of the sun dancing on the water. He continued, “But I know someone here though, that is why I am here. I have been looking for him for a really long time”.

“Hope you find him.”, the older man said, trying to get up from his bench.
“But I have”, said the younger one, sneeringly, in a language he hadn’t heard in a long time.

He remembered why this face looked familiar to him. He remembered the day when his life almost came to an end, he remembered the man they called ‘The stalker’. Known for his meticulous ways, never leaving trails, never leaving anyone alive. He was a powerful weapon during the war, but worked for the wrong side. But the old man was the exception, he was the one that got away, and put a scar on his face.

“I remember you” the old man said after a long pause. “Good” said the younger man taking out his communicator. “He remembers me”, he spoke into it in the foriegn language and put it back in. “Nice to meet you. Finally, after 50 years”, he said and began to walk away. The old man’s heart.., his pacemaker, began to beat slower and slower. This was a risk that the doctors warned him of, but assured him none of the communicators working in the country operated in those frequencies.

He turned to see the lights fading away completely, and the stalker vanishing in the darkness living up to his reputation.