Creeping

I could see him from far off, intent upon the book in his hand. Such a normal scene for this setting, it was a gorgeous park with plenty of sunlight and shade. It was a perfect day for lazing around reading a book, or putting thoughts to paper. It was an ordinary sight, it shouldn't have set me on edge, but it did.
Having drawn my attention so, I puzzled to figure out why this figure should pique my curiosity. I studied the man as I walked closer. His clothing did not seem out of the ordinary. While it was a beautiful spring day, the air still had enough a chill to warrant a long sleeve shirt on a cold-natured person. Myself, I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, enjoying the coolness on my walk.
The man wore no hat, his shirt was a normal button-down shirt, the kind worn by most college students. He sat by himself on a bench, with his schoolbag resting beside him; not unlike so many of his peers who were out enjoying the weather. His pants were khakis of some kind, keeping with his scholarly appearance. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about him. So why did he warrant all of my attention? Why did my eyes keep going back to him, apprehensive?
His hair, while long, was trimmed and his beard manicured. His features were normal. He could have fit in anywhere. Maybe that was what it was. The fact that he was too normal, too contemporary made him seem out of place, it made him stick out. All the attempts to blend in producing the opposite result.
I watched his pen scratch out a shape as he sketched something in the lower part of his book. My attention completely focused upon him, I was burning with curiosity to see what he was writing. I wanted to delve into his notes, bury myself in his subconscious. I wanted to learn him from the inside out, know what made him tick, what motivated him.
As I drew closer, I found my path drifting closer to this unaware stranger. A path that would bring me close enough to reach out and take the book should I choose, or I could simply catch a glimpse of the page he was working on. As I walked, I debated my course of action. Should I sneak a peek? Or should I go for the whole enchilada and snatch the book?
Ten feet, seven feet, five feet. I was fast approaching the moment of no return. What was I going to do? And in the instant before I had to make a decision, the man looked up. He looked me directly in the eye, and time stood still. In that instance, I made a connection with him. It was as if I suddenly understood everything about him, knew what was going, and without thinking, I stopped.
Looking down at his drawing, I found myself asking him to see his drawing. I found myself admiring it, and words coming out of my mouth. I was no longer in control. Something greater than myself was in control. Finishing my monologue, unaware of what I had said to the man, I stared at the man in silence; I was unsure what would happen next. The man looked at me and smiled.
"Now you are finally understanding." he said.
And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing there holding his notebook. All the answers to my unspoken questions in my hand. I stared around in confusion, unsure what had just happened.
Looking down, I found myself holding a blank notebook. There was nothing inside, just blank pages.