alfredo was a strange man.
men feared him.
women desired him.
but he walked alone.
men, seeing him pass by on the street, would suddenly realize that they would never be one tenth the man alfredo was, and would go home and shoot themselves.
women, driving down the street in red convertibles. or walking down the street pushing baby carriages, would abandon the convertibles or baby carriages and leave them in the street and follow alftedo - often to their doom.
alfredo, being a gentleman, would usually give these women a night of love - one that could never be repeated for them - and, having his own destiny - leave them.
women , those strange moth-like creatures, created for love and doomed to hopeless longing - could only respond to his abandoning…
with despair and death.
and so alfredo moved through the world, child of destiny, soldier of fate…
now it must be admitted that there were a few persons in this world, men and even a few women, who did not recognize alfredo for what he was.
persons in possession of worldly wealth and power, looking down on the masses from their towers and penthouses, sometimes mistook alfredo for a common spiv or lowlife.
made soft by wealth and ease, they did not sense the powerful forces that had shaped him, and that were unleashed within him…
for alfredo, in following his irresistible destiny, was still a living creature, and had to live day by day like any living creature, from the most humble and timid to the most fierce and terrible…
like most men who are not born to wealth, and who do not surrender their lives and souls to “the daily grind”, alfredo was saved from destitution only by the good graces of women.
women who, willing to die for him, were only too happy to support him.
one dark morning alfredo went for a walk along the waterfront.
the waterfront of one of those enormous cities, dwarfing the ancient capitals of atlantis and london and new york, that are springing up like weeds all over the doomed earth.
he felt that his destiny was - finally - at hand.
the waterfront was deserted. deserted of life, there were a number of small vessels floating in the oily water.
suddenly a man appeared.
he approached alfredo, and did something few men did.
he looked alfredo straight in the eye.
smiled, and walked past
intrigued by this unexpected event, alfredo turned to follow the path of the bold stranger.
but the stranger had anticipated him, and stopped, and faced alfredo.
the stranger held a small object out to alfredo. “you dropped something.”
“i never drop anything,” alfredo replied.
“never is a long time,” the stranger replied with a polite smile. “but i did not say that you dropped it just now. only that you dropped it.”
alfredo never indulged in palaver or small talk. he simply held out his hand for the object the man was offering him.
it was a matchbook. a plain white matchbook. alfredo opened it. an address, that he did recognize but assumed was one in the surrounding city , and an eighteen digit phone number were written inside it.
“i bid you good day,” the stranger announced, with his same courteous smile.
alfredo nodded, and the man turned and walked away.
alfredo watched him go. the man did not hasten or slacken his pace, and disappeared from sight without meeting anyone or being picked up by anyone.
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