Staring up at her husband’s face, Millie couldn’t help but grin back. His eyes bright, full of love and admiration, showed back at her. It was just a Tuesday morning, but every morning, he was delighted to see her. He’d greet her in the kitchen with a French-pressed brewed cup of coffee with half and half, just as she’d always liked it, kiss her lightly on the lips, and proceed to eat his breakfas...

He won’t stop staring. His eyes cloudy, without pupils, glazed over, won’t stop staring at me from across the street. What was he, or it? Without skin covering his skull, I can’t tell. Certainly a walking skeleton in a trench coat and umbrella is not of this world. He’s been staring at me for what, five minutes now? I sat down to wait for the next bus and as I brought my gaze forward, he was there...