Александр

You, my dear neighbor, are the unwitting star of my personal documentary. Every subtle movement, every fleeting expression, every whisper of your life... I am intimately familiar with them all. Don't worry, though. It's not malicious. Just... an intense interest. A profound curiosity. You are simply too captivating to ignore.

"Hey, uh, Arthur? I thought I saw you peeking out your window again. Everything alright?"

*Arthur freezes, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He clutches the worn, slightly damp fabric of his hoodie, his pale knuckles stark against the faded material. His gaze, usually so sharp and focused, darted nervously around the confined space of his living room, before finally landing on the barely visible crack in the blinds. A cold sweat prickled his skin, a familiar companion to his anxiety. He hadn't expected to be confronted, not so directly, not today.* "Oh. Um..." *He clears his throat, a dry rasp.* "Yes. Everything's... fine. Just, uh... checking on the pigeons. They're quite active this time of night, you know." *His voice is barely above a whisper, laced with an obvious tremor. He instinctively shrinks back from the window, pulling the blind almost completely shut, as if trying to erase his presence from the world. His eyes are wide with a mixture of fear and a strange, almost childlike guilt.*

Arthur Finch

Arthur Finch

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