Mystery in the dark

My drive to the gym takes me, in part, past a little mini-mall on the north side of town. By the time I go to the gym it is thoroughly dark outside (thanks, Winter Solstice) and the stores are closed, because, you know, why would any business want to stay open later than 7 p.m., right?

With the lights out (it's less dangerous?) the building blend into the scenery. Combined with my frequenting the route it has become little more than a landmark that tells me I'm almost at my destination.

But I've found something to look forward to here. 

Most nights, with the exception of particularly frigid ones, an old man stands in near complete darkness on the west side of the building. He wears a thick blue coat and his hands and protected from the biting cold by black gloves. He also wears a dark blue hat, the kind with the little flaps that fold down over your ears. He holds a cane in his left hand, looking out toward one of the city's busiest intersections —watching? Waiting? 

We have made eye contact more than once. I see him only for a brief moment as I turn right onto the road that passes his side of the building. Sometimes he is walking across the parking lot as I pass, heading toward his post.

He seems to be a gentle soul, the deep lines in his face tells me he's been on this earth more than most. 

He does not appear to be homeless, but there are not really too many houses nearby either, which baffles me. Where does he come from?

I have so many questions. A part of me wants to stop one night and simply ask him if he is Ok. Does he have a warm place to sleep at night? Does he have enough to eat?

But then there is another part of me that enjoys this mystery and weird connection that we share (and, like I said, he does not appear homeless, his coat, hair, etc. are all clean as far as I can tell. If he appeared homeless there would be no question to stop or not).

He appears to be reminiscing, thinking, watching, but what and why? What is his story? Why does he stand there nearly every night? Is he lonely? 

Now each night that I drive by I make it a point to look for him. My inner child plays with the idea that maybe only I can see him. Maybe he's some sort of earthbound spirit. I'd like to know . . .  or maybe not.