The Arena

I pulled Bob as my partner for the ride over. 

Without any intents, hopping on without a single shred of purpose, a unifying neigh, and the turn of a wheel later, there his curious gaze silently stared, hovering across from only but three feet away. 

With a bright yellow hard hat swallowing most of his head and hair, tight-fitting suspenders lifting tattered, oil-stained jeans, and small tools for every scenario hoisted up his belt buckle… I say he was pretty much as bizarre of a sight as I was to everybody else, and that's quite a substantial remark considering he ain't the one with tinkling bells on his head chinking ever so faintly with every swivel of the carriage wheel.

He really was a stranger to behold.

A little while later, I'd find that he was also a stranger looking to befriend me as well. Bob raised a gloved hand, his stare suddenly accompanied by a little smile.

"Hey," He said. "I'm Bob."

Or so it would seem.