The next night, Anna found Mr. Hand sitting at the river already. She sat beside him with a cheerful greeting. The moon was out that night, giving everything a silver wash. They exchanged small talk but mostly watched the river.
"You seem to be very lonely," Anna said suddenly, surprising herself. Mr. Hand glanced sideways at her. He rolled his neck from side to side, as if loosening up for something strenuous. "In a way, yes." The last letter came as a slight hiss, as if he had caught the word delicately between his teeth to drag it out. "There are not many people like me," his tone became confidential, admitting to her something he had refused to admit to himself.
"You're perfectly likable," Anna complimented sincerely. Mr. Hand gave a painful smile, much different from the night before. "I don't think that is the problem."
Anna tilted her head to the side, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulders. "What is the problem, then?"
Mr. Hand became silent. He looked away from her, out over the water and the moonlight dancing across it. Anna winced internally. Had she stepped over some boundary? Mr. Hand stood up, his long coat flaring around his ankles. "I should go," he murmured.
"Did I offend you?" Anna stood as well, it was only polite.
"No," Mr. Hand's voice became silk, objective to calm her discomfiture. "I have an appointment to keep."
Anna's heart sunk. She had been enjoying her time with this mysterious man, despite the two of them being almost complete strangers. There was something about him that reminded her of John, and she found it familiar.
Mr. Hand held the crook of his arm to her. "May I escort you to the bus stop?"
Anna took his arm, flushing slightly. John would often walk with her the same way. It made her feel a little silly; such an old-fashioned gesture was out of place in a hustling and bustling city. Still, she allowed Mr. Hand to walk her to the bus stop. Delivering her safely under a street lamp, Mr. Hand tipped his hat and said good night. Anna rode the bus home, a childish grin on her face. Her new acquaintance's mannerisms were strange but endearing.
That night, John asked where she had been. "Just down by the river," she replied and it satisfied his curiosity. For some reason, a nagging feeling at the back of her head told her it wouldn't be smart to tell John about Mr. Hand. Her husband might get jealous, and she didn't want to start a fight with him. Best to keep it a secret until John wasn't so stressed from work.