Recurring Visitor

Times were hard, Saroya could see it wherever he went. He was a traveler, never staying in one place. He roamed the rural farms, coming across many different people. There were tall men with thin wives and fat children, though they were the lucky rich few. Then there were the single mothers, whose husbands were fighting or already killed by enemy soldiers, their children thin and ragged. Saroya roamed from house to house, being fed in a few places, given a place to sleep, but having rocks thrown at him, and kicked out of others. The families that were nice to him were few in number, and he would have to leave them soon after arriving anyway. All the families he visited were poor, and barely had enough to feed themselves, much less a visitor. And so he roamed the country-side, no home and no family.

All was not so bad. He had no responsibilities, no chores, no house to clean, and no need to even bathe regularly. He got free food and a place to stay on good nights, but on others he would brave the weather and packs of feral dogs. When he came across a town, he would eat well for a week. There were planty of mice, plenty of milk and plenty of porches to sleep under. In the winter though, he would find it harder to find families that would give him a place to stay or scraps from their table to eat.