Escape from Lardo

He’d followed me all week. Lardo in the truck, scratchy beard, one blind eye.

He didn’t worry me. He seemed kindly. The one eye twinkled. But you never know.

I’d spotted him Monday while drinking coffee, parked one line of cars from where I’d parked mine. Then crusing the grocery later that night. That set a red flag. With one eye, I hadn’t made a mistake. It was the same guy.

As the week progressed and the spotting continued, I had to ask myself was it time to move. Only a year in this riverside town, ducks riding the edges, mergansers bobbing, airplanes taking off and landing after spirals midair had allowed me to move with ease among the workaday drones, but here now, Lardo put the spotlight on me and it wasn't safe.

One time stopped at a light, him right behind watching me watch him on my rearview mirror, I tried to question him. All I got back from my signing was Lardo. I moved along determined to lose him on the freeway exchange, riding the loops to circle back but I guess he'd learned my routine.

So at dusk tonight I left for my cabin. It's not easy to follow someone and after a week I wanted down time.

The blue light of last light was upon the Sound when I pulled in, no one following.

I tucked my car behind so it wasn't visible in the street. All my electronics were off, resting safely in my offsite stowage places. Finders could try to break in but they wouldn't GPS me.

It's chilly I realized. Started a fire. Checked for new holes, birds like to pull out insulation so I got my patch out, a stucco like paste mashed in.

This got me through the tea pot scream from the stove, shaking me through to bones. Then I started the heebie-jeebies telling me I wasn't alone.