He won’t stop staring at me.

His eyes are always fixed. Always beady and white. Ants crawl on his face, spreading as freckles that nest on his cheeks. His skin becomes paler each day, housing a tinge of silver and shine. He’s always there no matter where I stand. To the left, then to the right, he follows my every step. He takes no breaks in the day, though sleeps long in the night. The darkness scares him away. I would lay awake, savouring my alone time. But then the sun would wave her hello and he was back again. Staring at the edge of my bed.

Wake up!

Wake up!

He yells.

I close my eyes to escape him.

Though years later he’s still here.

Staring right back at me.

I will never escape him. He always finds a way.

The bathroom mirror.

The street window.

The laptop screen.

Staring.

Sometimes I wish I were blind.

Or nocturnal at least.