There's an old man who sits on a stone wall in the middle of the woods; silently, he stares into the distance.
His clothes are antiquated, faded by the sun.
How long has he been there?
For nearly forty years, I've failed to get him to move or speak, by guessing at his name.
His name is 'Jebediah', and I know this because when I spoke that name, his gaze locked onto mine with frightening speed, a tear running down his dusty cheek.
I don't know why he's there, and I'm not sure that I want to anymore.