Chapter 19 Almost Identical to the Big Dipper, Part 2

More people started to gather as the customer service woman explained how all of this began.

“Twelve years ago, a man came into the store. He was an unassuming biker who was traveling through our town, and he laid out specific instructions as to what we were to do. He gave us some money to buy the Coronas the first year, and then he would return the next year to do it all over again. Unfortunately, this became a tradition. We had no way to reach him, but he would always come back, and with each passing year he somehow kept that gleam in his eye, promising us that one day, someone would be honest enough to bring the beer back in.”

The sun was beginning to set behind her and so I was having a little trouble making out the features of her face. I had no idea where my wife was; she should have finished long ago and be very worried, or at the very least, see me up front with all of these people. This story was so strange and surreal that I had to be caught between waking and sleeping.

Maybe I was caught in one of those moments that didn't respect the boundaries of time.

The woman continued on and told me that all of the store employees knew of this tale, one that grew with mystery each year, but they’d been extremely careful not to let it slip out into town for fear of tainting the man’s plan.

“He requested that we do it the same way and at the same time each year, and just like clockwork, we'd always hear the low rumble of his motorcycle afterward. He must watch from a distance, because for eleven years now we’ve seen him slowly circle the parking lot and then ride away.”

So I had to ask. “Well, where is he now?”

They all turned around in unison and pointed toward the tree with the narrow branches and wide leaves.

“He’s outside waiting for you.”