A wanderer and an old priest

"You're a strange one, wanderer," the old priest of a faithless town said. "You're not afraid to die and yet you fear love?"

"Who said I'm scared of love?" the wanderer refuted. "I do not fear love."

"Said he who shudders when approached by fair maidens?"

The wanderer wanted to argue but found himself at a lost. Was he really afraid of love? And so he tried to formulate a decent reason why he does so.

"It's just that-"

"You're lonely, wanderer, am I right? Or were you hurt once?"

Suddenly memories of distant past mistakes and misfortune flashed in the wanderer's mind.

It wasn't only him that got hurt back then. But he also hurt the woman that he loved. Of which he had already lost connection with her both physically and emotionally. He wasn't in loved with her anymore. He was free. Free to love again and yet, he didn't. He could but he couldn't. Was he afraid of hurting anyone again or were he afraid to get hurt?

After a moment of senseless thought and quiet, the wanderer smiled.

"I might get afraid of dying if in case I ever love again," the wanderer said and readied himself to get up.

"Is that so?" the priest asked. "So, where are you heading to now?"

"I don't know, maybe somewhere else."