I was just going about my day, not paying things much mind.
My neighbor, a lovely 30-something named Molly, had entrusted me with her children while she worked a double. As always, I tried to do it without pay. Snow was blanketing the ground, and if anything, the house felt cozy.

Anyway, like I said, everything was pretty average. Don’t open the door unless it was her, because her ex husband had been pestering her over the phone, and put the kids to bed by 9. Ryan is going through a phase where he’s obsessed with packaged ramen, so consider making that for dinner.
By the time the kids were in bed, I was relaxed, keen to watch whatever movie stuck out from the cable box’s offerings.
Then I saw it.
On the fade to commercial, when the TV screen went black, I saw my reflection. I saw something behind me.
A man, tall and towering, only slightly illuminated by the streetlight. Right in the window.

I was frozen, if only for a moment. My mouth went dry. I felt sick. It had to be Molly’s ex husband, the father of her children, stalking the home.
Panicked, I fumbled for my phone, dialing 911 with shaking thumbs. He was outside, I insisted, trying to find a way in.

The police arrived. They told me there were no footprints outside. I must have been falling asleep, and dreamt that it happened. But I insisted. I wasn’t asleep. I saw the man, I felt my blood run cold. My dreams were never that vivid.
I begged them to check some more. What if the footprints had just been covered by freshly fallen snow? What if they just hadn’t looked hard enough?
They rolled their eyes and huffed. One went outside, and the other went to check on the children.

They found the man towering over his son’s bed.
He hadn’t been outside.
He was in there with me the whole time.