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me to impress anyone.” He sat back and closed his eyes.
    He didn’t open his eyes and speak again until after we had taken off and leveled out. The flight attendant was asking if anyone wanted anything to drink. I took a soda, and he ordered a cup of tea.
    “Well,” he said. “As you see, I fall asleep on and off nowadays. Seems to work. But I won’t keep you up,” he quickly added.
    The whole time, I had been thumbing through a magazine about Massachusetts and found an interesting travel article about a town called Quincy. It was close to the Atlantic, and I had always enjoyed being near a beach. From the description I read about the small city, it seemed a perfect place in which to get lost. I had come to believe in fate and coincidence and thought that whatever powers were looking over me had put this destination in front of me. It was more than just a suggestion. It was a road map to my salvation.
    Thaddeus looked at the magazine and nodded. I had left it open.
    “I’ve been to Quincy often,” he told me. “It’s a very nice place.”
    I could cling to the belief that maybe there was something out there, some great force that would want to protect me, but I had not left my paranoia behind. It sat with me in the seat. I didn’t like the idea that some stranger would have an idea about where I was headed.
    “ ’Course,” he continued, “it’s been quite a while since I’ve been there. Now that I think about it, it’s more like twenty years, so you can’t take my word for it. Places change just like people, or maybe people change because the places change. I can’t tell you which comes first. So much for the wisdom of old age.”
    “That’s all right. I’m just going to Boston,” I said. “I doubt I can get to anywhere else this trip.”
    “Sure, sure, don’t rush your life along. I can tell you this,” he said, sitting back and closing his eyes again, “it seems like just yesterday when I fell in love with my wife. She’s been gone now close to twenty-five years, but I don’t wake up any morning without hearing her tell me not to dilly-dally. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have been half the man I was.” A smile seemed to land softly on his dark red lips. In moments, he was asleep again.
    Would I live to be his age, and if I did, would I have any loving memories to bring me comfort?
    We left the plane together. He offered to give me a ride to wherever I was going, but I assured him that someone was there to pick me up.
    “Well, you ever get into any trouble, you call me,” hesaid. He reached into his pocket and produced a light blue business card with black print. His full name was Thaddeus Bogosian. Under his name was written “Insight Books” and his address and phone number.
    “I had a small bookstore, specializing in religious, philosophical material. My wife’s the one who made the living in our family,” he said. “She was a crackerjack real estate agent. She married me because she said she needed a dreamer. You ever have need for a dreamer, you call,” he said.
    I told him I would and watched him walk away. He looked as if he were holding on to an invisible woman beside him.
    As soon as he was gone, I found my way to the train station. I was still undecided about where I would go or what I would do, but it felt safer to keep myself moving in almost any direction. The distance I had traveled from home gave me a sense of security. I had taken the magazine from the plane and continued to read about Quincy. It was the birthplace of John Adams, John Quincy Adams, and John Hancock. It shared a border with Boston, and its bay was actually part of Boston Harbor. It had several beaches and a community college. The train schedule showed me how to get there. I had no idea what I would do immediately once I was there, and I had no idea why I had such faith in myself, but I continued as if it had been my plan all along.
    First, I went into a shop and bought a decent-size travel bag. A