The Stranger at Maple Street

It was just past sunset when I first noticed her standing by the old lamppost on Maple Street. The kind of street that most people avoid after dark—cracked pavement, empty storefronts with dusty windows, and the faint smell of damp leaves. The lamppost flickered erratically, casting long, wavering shadows that danced in the evening breeze.

She wore a long, dark coat, buttoned all the way up, though the air was still warm enough to go without. Her hair was tucked beneath a wide-brimmed hat, but strands of it slipped free, catching the fading light like threads of copper. She stood perfectly still, facing the street, as if waiting for something—or someone.

I slowed my steps, curiosity nudging me forward. As I got closer, I caught sight of her eyes—deep, dark, and unreadable, like windows to a place I couldn’t reach. When our eyes met, she held my gaze for a moment longer than felt natural, then quickly looked away, turning toward the mist that crept from the river at the street’s end.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice breaking the silence.

She smiled—a small, sad curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m waiting,” she said softly, “for someone who’s lost, much like you.”

I blinked, unsure if she was speaking to me or the empty street. “Who? Who are you waiting for?”

She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, worn notebook. “Sometimes,” she whispered, flipping it open, “people lose their way—not just on streets, but in life. And sometimes, those lost souls find each other.”

The fog thickened, curling around her like smoke. She took a step backward, then another, until she was almost swallowed by the gray haze.

“Wait,” I called out, but she was already gone.

For a long while, I stood beneath the flickering lamppost, the silence pressing in on me. Was she real? Or just a trick of the fading light and my restless mind?

I didn’t know. But I felt, deep down, that my own journey—whatever it was—had somehow just begun.