We must have dozed off, when I am woken by the doorbell. The soft soles of the mysterious Black-Shoed Man could not have made any noise as he approached along the gravel driveway.
‘I’ve been expecting you,’ I tell him. Though, I didn’t expect him like this. He looks more kindly than his mythos would suggest. He shakes my hand and presents me with a tall, beautifully ornate bottle filled with a vibrant yellow drink.
‘Pour a couple of shots for yourself and your friend,’ the man tells me with a gentle smile. ‘Then tell him that if you share this drink with someone, you’re sure to meet again.’
I empty a tray of ice cubes into a shaker, add enough of the drink for three shots, and give it all a vigorous shake. Then I strain the drink into the three glasses I had saved in the freezer for the occasion. I had been expecting him, it was true.
‘Thank you,’ you say when I hand you your drink, as if you will look forward to meeting me again after we part, and I believe it. I turn to hand the third glass to our visitor, but he has departed as silently as he had arrived. I am surprised to find myself so disappointed. I had so many questions for him, questions that will fall away with time, forgotten until I see the Black-Shoed Man again. But I know that of course we will meet again and at last, all of my questions will be answered.