Free Bending Tyme by Maria-Claire Payne

he was a little bit nuts. They were everywhere, especially at this time of year.
    “I don’t have any change to spare,” I said, and looked back down at my novel.
    A laugh rumbled up out of him. It was low and soft and kept going, like a train coming down the tracks. I glanced back up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. His head was thrown back and he was gazing up at the grey sky, at the clouds that hovered too close. The laughter broke loose. It was loud and full-bodied, the kind of laugh that came from a man who had no worries in the world.
      The belt of his trench coat opened a bit and I caught a glimpse of what had to be silk underneath it. That’s when I noticed his shoes, polished to a high shine. On his wrist was a watch that looked expensive.
    “Oh, shit,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought—well, you know what I thought.”
    He stopped laughing. It seemed to take a massive effort. “It has obviously been a long time since you thought of yourself as a gift.”
    “A gift?” I looked at him closely. He could still be one of those nutcases. He might just have a lot of money to take with him while he went down to the funny farm.
    “A gift, a present, a Christmas delight,” he said merrily, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand.
    “You lost me.”
    He looked around at the other people nearby. Most of them were sitting on benches and not paying the least bit of attention. This was the part of town where someone could be mugged and nobody would lift a finger to stop it.
    “These people sit here among angels, and they haven’t a clue.”
    Then I knew he was nuts. I looked back down at my book, hoping he would get the hint. “Thanks for the compliment.”
    “You think I’m crazy.”
    I nodded and kept reading.
    “I don’t blame you for thinking that. It’s not every day that you run into someone like me, Marilyn.”
    I slowly looked up. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, grinning at me.
    “What did you say?”
    “Marilyn,” he said softly, teasingly, like a little kid whispering a secret into a friend’s ear.
    A cold chill ran through me, despite the thick hand-me-down coat and the heavy boots I wore. “How do you know my name?”
    He ignored my question and looked up at the sky again. “We’re going to have more snow. The forecasters said another five inches, but I’m betting more like ten. The clouds feel generous, don’t they?”
    I studied the clouds. They were heavy, pregnant with snow. A few flakes drifted down and melted on my face. I looked back at him, but he was still contentedly scanning the skies.
    “How do you know my name? Who are you?”
    “You’re full of questions, Marilyn.” That teasing note was back.
    The rumble of the train drifted up from down the track, and those around me stood and gathered their belongings. I was already five minutes late for work, and, after the train made its rounds, I would be half an hour late, but I didn’t move. I sat there on the bench while the train stopped. People disembarked in a flurry of discussions and laughter. Others boarded, then it was gone, leaving the smell of oil lingering behind.
    “I’m glad you chose not to go,” he said conversationally. “I mean, of course you should have, you have a job and I know that, but I’m just as selfish today as the clouds are generous. Would you walk with me?”
    “Tell me how you know my name,” I demanded.
    His smile faltered. “You won’t walk with me, will you?”
    I glanced at my old Timex and gathered my belongings. I was so late for work it probably wouldn’t matter now if I got there at all. I might even get fired. I stood up and turned away from the man, who still hadn’t moved.
    “I guess that means no,” he said.
    I glared and flipped him the bird. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. I put my backpack on my shoulder and stuck my book down in the deep pocket of my carpenter pants.
    His calm voice came from behind me. “He told me