Creep

The rain was pouring, the sky opened like a fresh wound. Thunder roared in the distance. I could feel my backpack soaking up copious amounts of water.

I had forgotten my umbrella, but I didn’t care, I was too concentrated. I was looking at him. He was looking at me. I couldn’t remember when exactly he had appeared, but he did, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. 

Across the street was an old unkempt home. The lawn ran wild, blades of grass stretched from the Earth. The front door was hanging from it’s last hinge, a puppet to the wind. All the windows were boarded shut except for one. That’s where he was, staring back at me with an unbreakable gaze.

I had been so focused that I failed to notice the bus creep up on me. Its doors swung open, but I continued to stare. The driver called for me “Hurry up and get in!” I lingered for a few more seconds, entranced by this man. As I climbed on, the bus driver rambled on. “Look kid, I know people cope differently, but at some point you have to let it go. You’re gonna get pneumonia standing in the rain like this.” “Oh, sorry.” I couldn’t be bothered with his attempt to lecture me. 

I made my way to the furthest vacant seat there was. The driver barely waited for me to be seated before we started moving. I slid to the window to give him one last look, there he was. 

About six months ago my friend Jesse died in that house. Jesse had always been a rock of stability throughout my hectic life. I wondered why he had only shown up recently and what he wanted. Why was he there, and not Jesse?