his bloodshot eye
Quarter past six in the evening: my neighbour passes by the spyhole in my front door. Two minutes later: shouting, screaming, thumping, door slamming, crying.
It happens every night, for weeks on end. Until five days ago.
He hasn’t returned.
That first night, I think I heard scratching.
I may have imagined it. It’s been quiet ever since.
But the smell. It’s faint, but it is there.
Five nights now, and I keep looking through that spyhole. My heart leaps up into my throat. I can hardly breathe.
He’s back.
As he walks by, he looks in my direction. I swear he sees me. He comes up to my door. His bloodshot eye fills the hole. If I move, he will see the light shift. If I breathe, he’ll hear.
Can I run? Do I scream?
Will he break down my door if I do?