Ternity Fled read the lines as he began to walk home that day. His eyes were glued to a book he held with one hand. It was for one reason he kept reading the same lines: it was unfinished.

The rays cast an orange light against fallen leaves. Autumn had just begun. Middle houses lined the streets as residents walked in and out. There was a community gathering of sorts but he was too engrossed to look their way.

"Hey!" greeted a spirited neighbor just beside their house.

He'd heard what he said but didn't know it was directed at him. He nodded as he continued reading and the neighbor mistook it for a response.

"Careful there. Walking while reading might not be so far from texting and driving." The neighbor flashed him a smile but he didn't notice. He kept walking until they were out of sight.

Once there were no people, he stopped to examine what he'd read. He closed the book and held its spine. Smooth paper touched his hands as he felt its modest bold letters.

Written on the spine was "Musings of a Stranger."

It was an old, faded book much like the worn, green sweater he wore. It had sewn parts in zigzags that made it seem cool. The book didn't have that. It looked plain and boring... which is what made its contents much more surprising.

"Strange," he thought. "Why would someone write such sweet poetry? Shame. I was beginning to like it."

He continued on his path until he reached a familiar oak tree. He was swinging his hand when a cute squirrel jumped past him. He nearly dropped the book.

It barked and chased after the acorn it found hidden beneath a bunch of leaves.

"You sound like a bird," he shrieked and made sure no one saw his reaction. His aunt would have laughed if she saw his face.