In my town, I have a favorite park. In the middle of the park is a small lake, with many benches that face the lake. It’s very peaceful. I had been in this park a while back with my grandson and noticed an old man sitting on a bench. He was watching the ducks on the lake. That night I dreamed of the man on the bench talking to a young woman. He was telling her his life story, or so it seemed. Something about the isolation of two people, alone, as the sun was setting made me wonder why the man wanted to talk to this young lady in particular. As is usually the case, an answer came and I began writing. HUNTED!