It's something that, even if you are seeing it for the first time, is clear enough in its meaning.

That twitch under a man's eye, just after he's decided not to kill someone, and while he still might change his mind - it tells a story that can't otherwise be told. Often enough, someone says "You had to be there," and this is what it means.

The intensity that's held in the moment when you don't know yet whether that fuse is going to burn out or fire the blasting cap. Followed by the moment when the twitch just stops, and all the air is let out of the room and the man says...

"The devil!"

And with that, the fuse is done. The cap is charged. The blast is made. And nobody can stop it now.

Which lifetime was this in? Was I cain, or was I Jackson, or was I even born?

* * *

I walked through the crowd toward the street. I could smell the crisp filthy blackened concrete and how it reeked of spent deisel fuel. The crowd was a mix of people who got off the bus slowly in front of me, and people who were here before me. All of them parted as if I were cutting through them like the prow of a ship. Either that I was bumping them aside and couldn't even tell.

We had crossed the border a few miles back and this was the first stop in Canada. I needed to buy a new ticket to get the rest of the way. There was one obvious choice when I looked through my options. In a few days I would be in Dawson City, Yukon Territory. Far enough north that the days and nights are beyond comprehension for any Yankee. Some times of the year there is no telling what time of day it is.

The night air was immeasurably crisper here than in Minnesota, which was more than 500 kilometres ago. The freshness of it tasted like a promise. The promise was that this was going to work.

It was a long time since I had left Minnesota, even though it was just early this morning. Yesterday I was on a riverboat with a fellow traveller who was trying to get back, just like me. Then in the evening I had tried to fit in with yet another group of locals in yet another small town. It felt pointless as ever.

"These guys are the best pizza in town."

"Well I'm not too fussy."

"I always order their deluxe."

"Sounds good."

"OK I'll call it in for ya. Thirty minutes or it's free. But it never takes thirty minutes."

I did my best to extricate myself from the conversation so that I could go back in and lay down on the bed to wait.

I heard a slight knock against the window. Perhaps it had just happened, or perhaps more than once. I had dozed off. Probably not for long, but hard to say now. I ran up the stairs to check. It was a slight rattle perhaps, but I didn't want to miss the delivery. This basement suite was not a great fit for me but good enough for the night, and the landlord recommended his favourite pizza delivery to me. I didn't have much money left but enough for this.

I saw no-one on the street. Curious. I looked around and walked around the corner of the building, peeking into an alley. Nothing there. I had not been long to get up the stairs but could not say how long there had been knocking for. Around the second side of the building I saw a group of teenagers shuffling along the sidewalk about a hundred yards down.

The air smelled a little dustier and the sky looked a little darker and I questioned again what I was doing here. Why here. This isn't anyplace I need to be. I should just go. I could walk away right now. I had nothing of value in the room. Leaving right now would be a good idea because the landlord thought I was still inside, and would certainly think I hadn't gone anywhere because I had ordered food. The food delivery guy wouldn't find me but so what. If local authorities did come looking to interview me then these people would tell them I'm here, and I could be elsewhere. I could be far away. Local authorities would really only be an annoyance more than a danger to me, but Time is always of the essence. I need to be searching the skies now because there was no telling when the next opportunity would come by. There I go again - "when." As if time matters.

I went back inside and before I got to the bottom of the stairs I heard a clear knock at the door. I went back and got my pizza, and went down to settle in for the night.

The food was passable, but I thought to myself that if this were anyone's favourite then they ought to get out more. Perhaps I was just in no mood though. This work was getting tiring and I wanted to get back now more than ever.

It was late at night and I was still trying to settle my mind to sleep. What I wanted to do seemed to be resolved, but now how. I kept thinking about how to travel now with no means.

I adjusted my pillow again. It was wafer thin. I had tried rolling it up lengthwise, I had tried widthwise, and was thinking aobut what to put under it. I went to reach for James' rucksack to hold my head up and then I realized it wasn't by the door where I thought it should be. Did I bring it? Yes, I left the boat with it. Where did I leave it? I carried it up the walk, I remember the feeling of it slapping against my back. Where did I leave it? I had talked to the landlord on the porch for a long time. Maybe it was still there?

I tried to be quiet now, since it was after midnight. I went up to the porch and looked around in the moonlight. I saw stars aplenty. I wondered about travelling ships and I wondered about building good technologies for spotting the ships at night. I looked up and down the sidewalk, seeing no-one. I heard a dog bark once a lock away. There was the sound of a car rolling down a street, grinding gravel under its tires as it went, and the sound of its leaf springs squeaking like a rusty hinge as it passed over the slight terrain of this mostly residential neighbourhood.

I felt alone enough to feel secure, and alone enough to feel like I needed to press on as soon as I could. The rucksack was sitting on the top step of the porch, right where I left it. Remarkable. I opened the top to look inside, just to be sure everything was still there, forgetting that I had no idea what was in it in the first place.

Sweater, cap, socks, bundles of cash... that's what I found. James. Of course he did. He was the smart idiot again.

I slung the sack over my shoulder and walked back out toward the main drag. I recalled seeing a bus station.

The bus station wasn't exactly busy but it was open. I bought a bus ticket and a cup of coffee and sat down in a corner to wait for my ride.