The man in the tattered coat had crossed the street and now sat down on the bench next to me. He sat there, not saying a word, but I knew he was looking at me from the corner of his eye. I grew more discomfited – I felt like a cell being observed through a microscope by gigantic orbs. However I didn’t get up; insanely or otherwise, I thought it would be rude to do so.

Then he turned towards me, and not just his head. He turned his whole body, swinging his knee onto the bench, and looked at me. I felt myself shrink under his gaze – little tongues of fire seemed to dance silently in his eyes. Then he started speaking, and just like that, I was enchanted. He voice tinkled, like sparks left hanging in the air by a flying pixie.

“They say redemption is shunned by the desperate. I say that salvation lies within, thrumming silently in a fifth dimension, never seen, never heard. Those that achieve salvation haven’t achieved at all – they’ve only found what they had all along. They’ve peered into the fifth dimension with gaping eyes.

“You probably don’t understand what I mean – but I think you will. You’re smart, you are – you look like one of those out-of-the-box types. And when you do, the force of realization will leave your jaw hanging loose. There are really only two reactions you can have at that point. Some embrace the feeling and stride forward towards redemption. You can call them wise – I think they’re just plain lucky. I think wisdom plays as much of a role here as it does when a tossed coin totters on its edge, and comes up as either heads or tails. Others – they’re not so fortunate. For some reason, they run, fleeing away into the hells of perdition. A part of them knows what is in store for them, knows they are heading towards madness. The road to hell is paved with bad decisions, and the decision to ignore this inner voice probably covers the final stretch. And then…poof! Just like that, they’re gone. They’ve locked themselves into a smoldering hell of their own creation, where they’ll hang forever, rabbits on a spit.”

“I…I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I whispered.

“You will,” he smiled, and the curve of his lips seemed to stretch all the way to his ears. “You will.”

“Are…you’re not mad, are you?” I said, and immediately regretted it, expecting to see a frown emerge on his face. But his smile only seemed to get wider, if that was possible.

“Madness is relative, kiddo,” he said. “Maybe to some, I am…maybe to others, I’m a sage. I can’t answer that question.”

I felt bewilderment. “But why are you even talking to me? I don’t know you.”

He smiled again. “You will.” With that, he got up and walked away, leaving me feeling puzzled and oddly anxious.

—————————————

One morning about a week later, I went to the front door to get the newspaper. I sat down by the window in the living room, just like any other day, and started reading. But this wasn’t like any other day – I never got beyond the first page.

My eye had caught the main headline, which was written in bold, and seemed to drill into my head. It said: “Escaped death row inmate executed.” On the side was a mug shot of him – the man in the tattered overcoat. My eyes went from the headline to him and back over and over, until I thought my mind would explode. My stomach felt heavy, as if I’d just fallen twenty stories.

“Death-row convict Harry Lutz was executed in the early hours of this morning. Harry’s escape from prison earlier this month created waves, leading to a nationwide man-hunt. In the most bizarre development in this case, according to unofficial reports, Harry was found sitting outside a Massachussetts state police station, smoking a cigarette on the steps….”

In a daze, I set the newspaper down. What does this mean? What does it all mean?

You will, the man in the coat had said when I told him I didn’t know him.

You will.