The window opened to the backyard of the house.
When I looked away in the backyard, I found an image standing in the shadow. I
jerked in fear, but tried to look harder. He was about 6 feet tall, lean with a
good physique. The figure was just standing there and it seemed he was looking
directly towards the window.
I turned to Aunt Anna who smiled at me and told
me to go to sleep. I looked back outside the window, but I could see no one
around, just the loneliness of the night. I shook my head, turned off the
lights, and went to my room.
I tried to sleep but something was bothering
me. Who was there in the backyard? I tried to recall the physical appearance but
could not make anything out. Fear started clouding my mind. What if he was a
thief or a killer! I shivered with the thought. The large window of my room was
open. I thought it might not be a good idea to keep it open. I gathered courage
to reach to the window to close it. It faced the front yard and the street. I
glanced out and it was then when I saw him.
He was the same man who saved me in the
morning; and I was dead sure that he was the same fellow who was staring at me
in the supermarket.
He was standing outside the gate of the house,
in the street. The street lamp threw light on his image directly. It seemed as
if he was being highlighted by a flashlight in a stage show. The tall muscular
body, leaning on the side with his arms folded in front of his chest. It seemed
as if he was posing for a modeling photo shoot. He was looking directly through
my window at me. Although the distance between us was measurable, but I felt as
if I could read his grey eyes which were staring at me intensely. They spoke a
language of their own. I couldn’t help but stare back at them. I didn’t know
why but I was blushing instead of screaming.
He gave out his most charming smile and turned
to walk away. I simply leaned by the window frame, too confused and surprised,
wondering what was all this about.
It was, technically, my first day in Angelston
and I had met this strange man thrice. No, not met. I met him just once, this
morning. After that, it seemed as if he had been chasing me. But why would he?
He didn’t look like a psycho, or a killer, or kidnapper; then what did he want
from me?
I decided that if I saw him again, I would
definitely talk and ask what his problem was.
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