He’s right there, lolling in Saigon Plaza, plain as day. An old man now, as are we all, but unmistakably him.
Not sure how I should play it. Unless something’s gone seriously wrong, he already spotted me. Knows I am here.
Take a deep breath, walk up to him.
He stares at the empty park through mirrored glasses.
“Did you miss it?” he asks as I approach.
“The place?” I sit.
“The place. The heat. The people, the bugs, the war, the hunt.”
“You really asking?”
“I really am.”
“Tell the truth, the only thing I missed was the food.”