The Man Outside

One part dream, one part weed-induced delusion. Or maybe I did see some weird shit. I’m not sure. All I know is that it was some freaky shit that makes for a fun little…thing.

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Sometimes I dream of a shape of a man, little more than a vague approximation—two arms, two legs, and a head. Maybe more, sometimes less. Most nights it stands in the street outside my home, beneath the dirty glow of the street light. Other nights, closer. Sometimes on my lawn, beneath my orange tree. Or, at my door. But always looking at me looking at it from behind the safety of the curtains hanging in the window of my living room, bathed in fractured light and shadow. It shouldn’t see me. But it does. I can feel it.

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