He weighed about 350 pounds, but he reminded me of an ex-football player, not a flabby overweight man. He had dark hair, obvious from the full but close-cropped beard and mustache. His eyes were as dark as his hair and deepset. The black ball cap with a red brim tightly snugged the top of his head. He paced the sidewalk in front of the neighbor's house directly across the street from me. Six paces to the left, then six paces to the right. Back and forth, back and forth, nervously puffing on a cigarette. I noticed him when I pulled into my driveway after a long day at work. I could feel him watching me as I retrieved the mail, unlocked the door, and went into the house to turn off the alarm. I looked out the screen door, and nothing had changed about his demeanor. The pacing continued. The cigarette went in and out of his mouth. A little uneasy, I closed the door and turned the lock. After feeding my three hungry cats, I kicked off my shoes and padded to my office. I opened the drapes and looked out. The man was still there. I wondered about his purpose for being in our neighborhood. No strange cars were in sight. As I watched he suddenly turned and walked across the lawn of the house he'd been pacing in front of and opened the door and disappeared inside. It was then I realized he must be visiting and had stepped outside to enjoy a smoke or two.
This real-life character sketch will go into my notebook and I'm sure he'll appear in a future novel.
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