As the stranger departs the figure in the booth falls into thought. The young man had seemed troubled. That wasn’t unusual. He didn’t want to admit it, but the booth shade knew that most travellers to Travesty were troubled. It came with the territory. But there had been a distinct oddness to their encounter that gave the shade pause. Maybe it was something in the air.

The shade reached out of the opening and let the wind wisp him. He knew that the city had moved on in his absence, but now he felt, for the first time in years, a desire to visit it again. To walk its streets once more, and feel welcome in his once and forever home. The shade retreated back into the booth. He was growing fanciful in his old age, such thoughts could only hurt him.

The booth shade didn’t believe in omens. To him, fate was as changeable as the wind, and nothing was certain. But even so, he felt uneasy. What business did the stranger have with Travesty? Why did he come without luggage or companions in the dead of night?

The shade let out a hollow chuckle. He was once again being foolish. There was nothing that could happen to Travesty that would not be undone in the fullness of time. The troubles of today could seem as dire as death, but in twenty, in thirty, in fifty years, they would be nothing but a memory..

So as the shade settled in to wait for the next traveller to pass by, the memory of the stranger faded from him. Worrying was a young person’s game, and after all these years he had earned his right to rest in the pale moonlight. And really, he reasoned,.

What Was The Worst That Could Happen?