He lowered his head toward me like a bird about to attack a worm. He had a short black beard and mustache, and wavy black hair that fell over his
forehead. He glared at me with round, black eyes.
His gaze was so cold, I felt a chill run down my back. Then he raised his eyes to look behind me into the house. “Are your parents here?” His voice
was soft and scratchy, as if he had a sore throat.
“No,” I said.
Why did I say that? How stupid! Why did I tell him my parents weren’t home?
“I mean, they’ll be home really soon. Sorry. I have to go.” My heart pounding, I moved to close the door.
But he pushed past me, nearly bumping me aside.
He was in the house!
He stood in the entryway, still glaring at me with those tiny black eyes. “You ran from me this morning…”