He watched. From an upstairs window. Scuttling clouds reflected on his specs. A step back from the pane. So not obvious, that he was there.
But I knew.
There was talk. Small village so speculation spread quicker than fire. It’s easy to judge isn’t it?
It was odd. The way he watched. The way he was always there. I wondered could he just be lonely? The older children shouted things.
When he’d gone it was stranger. No figure lurking. And the rumours spread quicker still.
I tried to ignore, not judge but I wondered.
He made me shudder.