Identity seekers

The man

The soft glow of the lamp shone very little light on the old Street. The rain had grown stronger as he looked out the window. He had to get to the cafe. He had and appointment in less than half an hour, and he had to meet with the reporter that wanted to write an article about his latest book.

"Reporters.", he muttered

He didn't like them reporters. Always trying to get to know him and find more about his past. The only people that knew much about him was his family. He didn't have friends. Never had, never will. Didn't need any. He always thought that friends would get in the way of things, that he'd never get his work done if he had any.

Shrugging on his tan trench coat over his maroon turtle neck, he went for the door.

"This better be good."