I see them when I am sat eating lunch at the café. I see them when I am stuck in traffic coming home. I see them when I am drifting off to sleep in my room.
Their faces. At the edges of windows. Behind open doorways. In mirrors.
Always at the periphery of my vision. Gone when I turn to look at them directly. I cannot see who they are or what expression they have. I do not know what they want or why they are here. I do not know why I can never see them fully.
But I get the distinct impression that there is something wrong with those faces. Something uncanny. Not quite human.
Paddy Dobson
12th May 2022