a tale of a wizened older man

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Morning! came the disembodied voice from the other side of the High Street. I glanced up to find that the disembodied voice was actually in possession of a body. A wizened older man with a scruffy grey beard and a long grey coat was giving me a little wave. He pushed what at first glance appeared to be a buggy, but in hindsight was probably just a zimmer frame on wheels. The wheels were squeaking along the pavement but, lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't heard them until he spoke. When I looked back a bit further on, the wizened older man had disappeared. POOF!!! Gone. I know that the most likely explanation is that he popped into the newsagents to buy a morning paper, or took off down a side street, but I would like to think that I just had an otherworldly experience. Perhaps he's a wizard. Maybe he was merely a figment of my imagination. It's possible he's Father Christmas having a well deserved rest before the festivities stop their feeble whimpering and start banging. Was he a Time Traveller? Should I put my imagination back into a locked box and throw away the key? I have never seen the man before, and I suspect I will never see him again, but I expect he's sitting at his kitchen table now, drinking tea and reading the paper, not sparing me a single thought.