It’s been a week since that very weird “phantom sniper” day, as one friend put it. No arrests have been made. For most people, it seems it was mostly business as usual this past week. Today I saw Clyde again and suddenly my little town was back.
Clyde is the name Rob and I gave a man we see walking along Main Street at least every couple of weeks. He’s an older guy, tall and lanky. He always wears a Confederate Army hat and leather spats over his Rockport-esque walking shoes. In the warmer months, he has suspenders over his t-shirt. This time of year, he has a circa 1984 acid-wash, Michael-Jackson-“Thriller”-inspired jeans jacket, decorated with black leather fringe. About a month ago, The Local Rag had its “Get To Know Your Neighbors” article about Clyde. It turns out his real name is Bruce. We’re trying to forget that since he really looks more like a Clyde. Either which way, it was lovely to see him again, walking past the high school. As soon as we see “Pimp Daddy” (don’t ask) also strolling along Main Street, everything will officially be back to our version of normal.
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