He was still standing there. Watching him how a predator stalks his prey. Patient, with no interest of walking away. He was in his regular attire that was constant day after day. This man did not speak, and he did not move. In fact, he just seems to disappear into thin air when he pleases. Gone, with no trace of ever laying foot in the place he just was. This man just appeared here one day, and he wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted.

It first started when a man by the name of Francis Romano was sitting at home watching TV. It was a usual day and he had nothing going on since it was Saturday and he had gotten off from working overtime at his manufacturing job the day before. Since he had the day to himself, Francis decided to kick back, relax, and catch up on his favorite TV show that he watched on Netflix. It was about 6:00 PM, when Francis got up to clean the dishes and he looked out his window to see a man standing there, staring at his window. He couldn't see his face as it was covered with a large hood and was wearing a heavy winter jacket, which was completely understandable as it was the middle of February and it didn't get any warmer than 35 degrees Fahrenheit. Even with the coat on and the hood up, Francis still felt like he was staring directly at him. As long as he stood there, the man didn't move and there were no tracks in the snow previous to where Francis assumed he came from. He thought that was the weirdest thing of all. For hours on end, Francis would come back and he would still be there. Waiting. Watching. Observing. He came back a few minutes later and he was gone. No trace of him ever being there, not even indents in the plush white snow marking each and every footprint.

A few days passed and his paranoia grew exponentially. Francis checked the windows day after day but the man didn't show. The first week passed without any sign of this hooded stranger, and he questioned what the man might have wanted from him. It was now Wednesday into week two and after he got home from work, Francis began his usual checkup. Looking out all of the windows for a sign of this man. Checking the upstairs windows and even in the bathroom windows. He finally ends at the back where he saw him first and to Francis' horror, he had returned.

Francis immediately ran out of his house to where the stranger had stood but sure enough, he wasn't there. It was so strange he thought, he can look at him for hours but the moment he turns away and looks back again, the man is gone. Scraped from existence only to be thrown back into the exact same spot Francis found him in a few days later.

The next time Francis saw the man, it was only three days after the last sighting. Still in his black coat with his dark hood covering his anonymous face. This time though, he noticed he was closer than the other times. He was sure of this because the man was originally standing right where the sidewalk would be but now he was part way onto the grass. Still no sign of movement as there were no footprint marks in the snow. Francis was slowly losing his mind and eventually carried on his day without even looking to see if the strange man was there. A few weeks passed and Francis eventually decided to look out the window to sure enough see the man standing there. This whole experience for Francis was so nerve-racking and he was getting aggravated each and every time he saw this hooded figure.

His rage was building slowly inside of him to the point where he ran over to the window and started banging on the glass, yelling for the stranger to leave him alone. He was so mad that he actually shattered the glass. Shards went everywhere, blood ran down his arm, but the hooded man was gone again.

This is when Francis pieced all of the evidence together. Disappearing after he looked away, no snow tracks, and nobody else seeing this man but him. All of this proved the fact that the man wasn't looking at his house at all, in fact he wasn't even outside Francis' house. The man outside in the black coat and dark hood was just a reflection. A reflection of the man, inside his house. Staring at him. Waiting for him to turn around just to bolt into his hiding spot, maddening Francis and driving him insane. Francis slowly turned around to discover a very tall, stocky man, in a black coat and dark hood, walking closer to him and wielding a sharp knife ready to use it to his pleasing. All this time, he was inside the house. Waiting, watching, observing. And now killing.