The Traveler

It's usually all so easy. There's unlimited money, so there's no money. Time allows for him and prevents others.

He sleeps the minimum required hours and awakes precisely when he should, no alarm clock necessary. Dressing as comfortably as possible, still looking the part, provides a fluidity he seeks for all situations, all possibilities. He drives to the airport when he knows the roads are clear, and his status with the airlines lets him breeze past everyone else in the security line. The plane lands and his rental car awaits with the key in the ignition.

Nobody notices anything different about him unless they look very closely, and over a prolonged period. It's important that he blend in with everyone else, even as he receives special treatment everywhere he goes.

The difficulty arrives when something unexpected happens. It could be simple as a comment from the wrong man or woman at the right moment, or monumental as a sinkhole swallowing the street beneath his feet. When unprepared, he disappears. Don't look for him, but you may recognize him somewhere, someday, if you can see his face.