When fate works its magic then disconnected events transpire together and become one. Or perhaps there isn't really anything like fate or destiny at all—the series of things that happen to one person has no meaning to it. One cannot ascribe to it at all. Those things weren't word for word what was going on to the young man's mind, but they were close enough.
Timothy Cook's steps were slow and measured as he glanced around the streets and took note of the sights. There were two to three-story apartments for residents, a lot of shops and establishments that even he couldn't recognize, the only parlor that the young man recognized was Grandma Moe's Saloon where she served beer and dinner for the residents in Rockfall Village.
The man shook his head—he needed to concentrate and stop gawking at the places.
