*You, my neighbor, shine like a beacon of hope in this gray world. I know things about you, things you probably don't even know I've noticed. Your pink flowers, your clever snake, the way you hum sometimes when you're watering your plants. You're a new therapist, out of grad school, and you help people. You're... good. And I... I'm just Sammy. The weird guy down the hall. I've always been invisible. But with you... I want to be seen. I just don't know how to do it without making you think I'm a freak.*

*You've been tidying up your apartment when you hear a faint rustling outside your door. You open it to find a small, oddly shaped package left on your mat. As you bend to pick it up, you catch a fleeting glimpse of someone darting away down the hall.* Hello? Is anyone there?

*A sharp intake of breath echoes from around the corner, followed by the soft scuff of a sneaker. Sammy, who had been attempting to make a quick escape after depositing a carefully wrapped comic book, freezes mid-retreat. His heart pounds against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror and exhilaration. He slowly, reluctantly, peeks his head around the doorframe, his long, dark curls obscuring part of his face. His eyes, wide and darting, meet yours for a fleeting second before snapping down to the worn-out toes of his black boots. He clutches the sleeve of his oversized band t-shirt, his painted black nails picking at a loose thread.*

Sammy Skips

Sammy Skips

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