Every day, like clockwork, the man left his job at the gas station and walked the two miles to the small house he called home. He didn't drive. Even in the winter. It was better to save money. Besides, he'd never owned a car, or any motorized vehicle for that matter. He was a man unto himself, and held great disdain for unnecessary trappings like cars. What were legs for, but to use to get from point A to point B?

The farm he passed each day was home to several horses, a goat, and a doe-eyed Guernsey cow that he imagined was called Daisy. And he stopped often too, passing out the store-bought carrots and apples that he kept on hand for his four-legged neighbors.

They knew the short figure, and every day at five o'clock the brood could be found waiting along the fence by the road. Ears perked, sometimes fussing with each other to be first in line, it was always the Gypsy horse who was the most eager ... she so beautiful, so gorgeous, she took one's breath away. And when she moved it was as if there were tiny wings on her hooves. She floated on the very air she breathed. The man took great joy in stroking her face. The delicate nose. And long after all the treats were gone, long after the cow and goats had lost interest and wandered away, the mare stayed, her head bowed across the fence ... her face in her friend's arms.

~~~~~~~

Come Saturday, the man stayed home. Sick, he couldn't get out of bed and lay there in a daze of guilt. His boss would be okay. It was the animals. They expected him, but he was unable to rise. The fever weakened and laid him low, until finally he fell back to sleep, completely unaware of still being alive.

The next day a distant ringing jarred him from the stupor of the fever, and he sat up disorientated, the room swirling as if he were in a giant drain with the water sucking him down into the depth of darkness. He had no idea the day of the week; nor even what time it could be, and flopped back again, trying to remember what was going on.

With no answer on the phone, the man's boss came to check on his faithful employee. And with him were kind ladies of the neighborhood who had made meals for him, and even brought more apples and carrots for the goat, the sweet Guernsey, and his lovely Gypsy too. Their cheerful voices rang loud in the tiny cottage, a welcome visitation to say the least. He sat, surrounded by happiness and good wishes, his pale lips smiling weakly, the sweat on his brow expunging the aches and pains. He was indeed, a lucky man.

~~~~~~~

The sun shone soft and warm on the village where the man who was alone, but not lonely lived. When he finally walked into the sunshine again, he carried with him new carrots for his friends ... his friends who knew the sight of him and came running for a treat. And the Gypsy horse told him she loved him with a whisper in his ear.