Have you ever had the feeling that you were being watched? It’s a sickening feeling that makes goosebumps explode on your arms and your hairs raise like an eager student’s hand. You take those sharp nervous squirrel-like glances, looking this way and that, and when you don’t see anybody, you shrug and think it’s time to lay off the Vodka. I feel that way many times during walks in my neighborhood (ahem, minus the Vodka). Today, I want to talk about the spies living right around the corner.
I think of myself as a reflective person. The thrills of being by myself and alone with my own thoughts is an adrenaline rush of the highest intensity. And what better way to gather your thoughts than by taking a long walk around the block with your dog?
I didn’t notice anything strange when I first moved into the area, but I guess that’s how it always starts out. You never notice anything wrong until it’s too late and you’ve passed the point of no return. I would walk through the streets minding my own business, feeling the breeze rush my skin, and listening to the sound of my footsteps on the pavement. Everything was fine, until I noticed something disturbing.
I was strolling along as usual, when I felt a heavy weight on my shoulders. You know what I’m talking about. The tickle at the back of your neck. The rush of paranoia. I felt like I was being watched. As if I was under remote control, my eyes found their way upward to a random window. The blinds were subtly parted by two lengthy fingers and the glare of glasses shown back at me through the slit. I froze for a moment before expeditiously finishing my walk, thinking that it was some creeper with nothing better to do. Little did I know, the same thing would happen a few days later.
It was nighttime and I was going for yet another stroll with my dog. To my surprise, there were more parted blinds and more eyes peering back at me. But this time there were many more. I’m not exaggerating when I say there were probably six people watching me that night.
The thought of them invaded my mind. I would look toward every window to see if I could get a glance of the perpetrators. Sometimes I would see them, other times they may have been too crafty. Some people were subtle, others would stand on their balconies, hands in their pockets, watching. As if waiting for something.
There’s one guy in particular, who sits on his balcony in his underwear with a beer in hand, watching. This happens in the middle of the night and he turns on his balcony light, so his spying is never anonymous.
Sometimes I keep walking and don’t care to look for the peering eyes. Sometimes I wonder who those eyes belong to.
They have to be spies, from some kind of international organization. That could be the only explanation. Why else would they always know when I’m outside and why must they sneak and peer through curtains when I pass?
I have all kinds of neighbors with all kinds of customs and tendcies. There is a man and woman across the street who wear all black clothing and sunglasses all the time. I’m convinced they’re vampires. There’s a man as big and wide as your front door, I’m convinced he’s a monster.
International spies live in my neighborhood. The question is, what could they possibly want with me?
But maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe I’m the spy, by the way I look for parted curtains and blinds. Maybe I’m the spy by the way I gather information and pass it on to you.
But that’s from my point of view, so what do you think? Have you experienced anything similar?