I needed to get out of the house. When I felt this way, I took myself antique shopping. I browsed the shelves and would buy the first thing that called to me, and then add it to my glass cabinet in the living room. That day was no different - I grabbed a bottle of water and headed out the door. My favorite antique shop was nearby, so I walked and enjoyed the sun and the breeze after much too long inside.

The first thing I noticed was a porcelain eyeball on a shelf. It looked misplaced next to the glass mugs and stone plates. But it was there, and when I looked more closely at it, it had a price tag and was for sale. So it hadn’t fallen out of a doll or a teddy bear … it was meant to be here. I picked it up and was shocked to feel that it was not too hard, but slightly softer, and that the veins looked realistic. The artist had painted it in a way that made the eye look - well - eye-like. I purchased the eye and placed it in my cabinet next to an old candle I bought some months ago. Both were the same pallid color.

And it took less than a day for me to realize that the eye was not porcelain or carved at all, but real. Later, when the antique shop was raided and the owner was convicted of murder, dismemberment, and foul play with his victims, I stared at the eye. And it stared back at me.