The next morning he woke up early, something he was not used to doing.  He got dressed and rode his motorcycle to the alley where he had parted ways with the man last night.  The few houses in that alley were small and old looking.  He looked at them in hopelessness, wondering which one belonged to the man.

At that moment, he jerked out of whatever trance he was in.  What was he doing?  Why was he standing in the middle of this alley?  He shook his head, confused by his own actions.

I must be going insane, he thought to himself before taking off.

He rode until he arrived at the street where his group had stopped last night.  He was surprised to find that none of the stalls were opened and there was no one around.  It was only when he glanced at his watch that he realised, it was too probably too early in the morning for most people, including him.  Letting out a deep sigh, he lit a cigarette and waited.

He didn't know when he had dozed off but when he came to, day had turned into night.  He opened his eyes wearily and found that he had somehow ended up sitting on the ground, leaning on his motorcycle with several cigarette butts at his feet.  He eyes immediately looked across the street and found that the stalls were opened.  A smile appeared upon his face when when he caught sight of the man in the dark sunglasses.

He stood up and dusted himself off, about to cross the road when he saw a group of youths approaching the stall.  His eyes narrowed.  They were the same group of youths from last night.  He watched as they each swiped a fruit as they passed the stall and continued on. 

Anger arose within him as he witnessed the scene unfold before him, especially now that he knew the reason why the man did not stop them.  He watched as the youths disappeared around the corner before starting his engine.

A short time later, the man was approached by the same group of youths.

"Excuse me, Sir," they said, making their presence known.  "We're here to pay for the fruits that we took."

Before the man could respond, he felt someone grab his hand and place money in it.

"Oh, thank you," replied the man with a smile, unable to see the bruised and bloodied faces of the youths.

"We're very sorry, Sir," they apologised. "We won't do it again so can you please tell him to forgive us."

The man furrowed his brows.  "Him?" he asked, wondering who they were referring to.

"The rider," one of them blurted out, before the others quickly hushed him as they weren't supposed to say anything.

"We're sorry," they apologised once again before staggering away with their injured bodies.

At the end of the night, the man proceeded to pack up and close the stall.  As usual, he started to make his way home with the walking stick in his hand.  Before long, he heard the sound of an engine following him from behind but always at a distance.  After a moment, the man finally stopped and turned around.

The rider immediately braked, maintaining the distance.  Neither spoke a word. 

He probably thinks I'm going to rob him, thought the rider but the words that came out of the man's mouth surprised him.

"Thank you," said the man.

The rider's eyes widened in surprise but he did not respond.

"Those youths..." said the man with a moment's pause of hesitation.  "I don't know how you managed to convince them but thank you."

Hearing the man's words of appreciation brought a smile to his face.

"Also, I'm sorry," said the man.

The rider frowned in confusion, wondering why the man was apologising to him.

"I'm sorry about last night, for assuming that you were going to rob me," continued the man.

The rider remained silent but a brief smile appeared on his face.  He was glad to hear the man's words.  He did not want the man to think badly of him.

"But, why were you following me?" the man asked curiously.

The man's question caught the rider off guard.  Why? he thought to himself.  He could not answer the man.  He did not know the reason himself.  In a panic, he quickly took off down the road.