The rain flows and pours ever so violently from the storm I hear thunder far off but getting ever so closer. Every late evening I sit and drink my sleepy time tea. I sit at my dining room table all cozy wrapped in my favorite blanket waiting for the kettle to boil. I always look out my apartment window while I wait and I see many things. Whether it be the silhouette of a man getting home from a late shift, the old lady watering her plants, or even the teens stealing a smoke break. At first, I only see the man, the rain is doing the old lady’s job and the teens don’t smoke in the rain, but soon I see something new, I see a boy, on the sixth floor he’s sitting at his window his face covered in a dark liquid. I grow ever so fascinated in the sight of the boy and I count every which detail. The boy he peers out his window staring into the stormy night. He sees the lightning hit ever so close to his home. The boy he doesn’t run but he stays unphased watching the storm. Surprisingly not even a flinch or a jerk he just continues to stare. He closes his eyes, he starts to laugh, and raises a shiny object. I ponder what it could be but then I see, I see his eyes, his black soulless eyes. Those are ones of a killer I don’t understand why this is but he sharply turns to stare at me and at that same moment my kettle starts to whistle and overflows. I go to turn it off but when I return to my seat he’s gone...