Sir Augustus Moran

A decade had past, the world had turned. Seeing family was almost as if seeing ghosts in a graveyard- unbelievable, against all odds, but when you saw them, their was no turning back from knowing. Knowing that maybe your sister was doing well, that your mother had passed away, that your father looked like he always looked - stern, a bit older, but still the face that could dominate a childhood, an adolescents, a whole life. A man behind a gun could be controlled by a stern a look, a voice, a name.

Maybe it wasn’t a decade, and maybe he was no ghost. But he was there. He was just across the walk way.

He tried not to look for long, but it was entrancing. What seemed like a few seconds was more so a few minutes, standing there, the same look etched into his face. Staring into his past as if it were a scrap book that he could just barely touch, barely skim the edges of.

To Augustus, today was a walking day and that was that. He wasn't headed anywhere special, but he hated having nothing to do. Ergo, the walks. All around the city he went, peeking into stores and saying hello to people he knew (if he had time and actually gave a crap about the person, which were rarely true at the same time). However, regardless of plan, it was hard to ignore the feeling of being watched. 

He turned, scanning the streets for any eyes turned his way. The ones he found were not those expected at all.