In A Name : Ishmael

    He didn't take long to pack. He had no laundry, knowing in his heart that he wouldn't stay in this place long. His hotel room was neat because of the fact that he was barely there. If he wasn't passed out, drunk, in some nearby bar, he would be wandering the highways and byways of teh town, pen and paper in hand.

    And when he felt the open road pulling at his heart, when all he drew were of sunsets and open roads, he knew.

    And he packed.

    And he left, signing his name and paying his bill.

    On the register, he had simply signed :

    Ishmael.

    - The End -

Note : Ishmael means Wanderer in one of the baby books I found.