For weeks, a little girl across the street waved at me day and night. Her eyes held an intensity I couldn’t ignore, haunting me from my window. One evening, I turned to my wife, Sandy. “Babe, she’s there again. That girl I told you about.” Sandy frowned. “The one always waving at you?” I nodded. “There’s something… more in her eyes. Like she’s trying to tell me something.” She suggested I wave back, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl was calling out to me. That night, my dreams were filled with her cries: “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.” I woke in a cold sweat, determined I had to do something.
Continue reading…
