What can YOU say in six sentences?
Harry spent a lot of time alone, time away from pavement and television and table cloths and pretty girls and pop music and road signs and, sometimes, comforts others took for granted.
He always grinned when he thought of the late winter when his bitch dog stopped to take a pee by the side of the trail and he got turned on just a little bit and realized he needed to go to town, and soon, needed some new books, needed some fresh grown vegetables, needed some company besides his hounds, his horses and almost crazy self.
Harry had a lot of conversations with his own self, with his animals, with the cows, with the granite rocks, with people from his past, with the people who used to walk the land and he almost saw them out of the corner of his eye as they slipped behind boulders, with the wind and with his fiddle.
Sometimes, Harry wondered if he would ever be fit company for a real woman, but then, he realized he'd rather that real woman stayed away, didn't plant flowers at his remote camp, didn't try to scrub his cast iron with soap (as he was sure she would), didn't tangle her feet with his while he was trying to sleep, didn't eat half the tin of sardines and drink half the coffee.
Harry had figured out how life was so much simpler just doing for himself, taking detours to check out the den of coyote pups because he could, reading in peace, playing solitaire in the early dawn, going to bed when he was ready.
Then he thought of the near uncontrollable urge he had to touch the hand of the gal bagging his groceries during his last trip to town, and maybe, just maybe, he could stand to play gin instead of solitaire.