I never met him, but I felt like I knew him. He walked by my house every day. He walked by a lot of people's houses every day because his route took him all over Silver Lake. He walked for hours and for miles, rain or shine. He'd wear a pair of green shorts, no shirt, carrying a newspaper or talking on the phone.
I always wondered why he walked. I thought of him when I read the novel The Unnamed, by Joshua Ferris, about a man who can't stop walking. But that man was miserable. I never felt the real Walking Man was. He seemed so content on his daily, unwavering route. But, then again, I don't really know anything about him. I just know I'll miss him.