The first I know of his arrival is a subtle shift in weight on the opposite end of the cushioned window seat. My favourite novel is open on my lap, and for a moment I stop reading, stare at the last word my eyes alighted on, thinking I must surely have imagined it. But no. There is a definite depression in the padding that has not been caused by me. Aside from my eyes, no part of me has moved for at least ten minutes. Slowly, I raise my…
