A handsome man was looking at me.
If it hadn't been for his eyes—the windows of the soul—I might have looked at him differently. I might have admired his expensive suit, his necklace, perhaps even said something.
But his eyes told me enough.
I automatically looked away, thinking about the next bus or train.
As soon as I entered the small restaurant, I knew who I was going to meet.
The man gave me a skeptical look. I had the reservation number, and that was the only thing that had brought us together at the same table.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, waiting for my order.
Then, without looking directly at me, he touched his tie. His fingers brushed against the thin gray necklace resting against the collar of his white shirt.
“Like it?” he asked.
“Ankh,” I replied without thinking.
That first word made him interested.
He woke up to reality.
I woke up from a dream.
He stared at me and touched his neck, his shirt, and his tie.
There was nothing on his neck anymore.
Just the white shirt, the tie, the dark suit, and a faint touch of cologne.
He smiled and moved a little closer, though he still kept his distance.
A tall waitress brought my order—a burger, cola, and fries. She looked at me with a big smile, as if I were the best customer in the restaurant.
It was a family-style place, with only a few people inside. There were children, too.
We were sitting there like everyone else, looking like two ordinary people having a good time.
But he was watching me.
And now I was worrying about how I was going to eat that enormous burger.
“Why do you want to do it?” I asked, trying to look professional and relaxed. “Leave it. It is just how it is. One day it will go away, where it belongs.”
“I can't. And I don't want to talk about it.”
He paused.
“What did you see?”
“I was watching you.”
I searched for the right words.
“Yes, it is possession. But not by something low-level. It is more ancient.”
He remained silent.
“It is bigger and higher,” I continued. “More visual. It cannot lie. It introduced itself to me. Just a glimpse. Not much.”
I stopped.
“It is there. Old. Calm. Very old. Deep green, almost black.”
He looked at me with wide-open eyes and a strange smile.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
He almost laughed.
I showed him the printed paper.
He looked at it and laughed.
“Very good.”
About thirty minutes later, a waiter gave him a hand signal.
We had to leave. I understood.
It wasn't far—just around the corner.
We walked to a two-story house and went upstairs.
Someone was following us.
I couldn't see anyone.
Only footsteps behind us.
The man sat down in the living room. There was a high stool right against the wall.
“Look,” he said.
He closed his eyes.
Then he began to open them.
Something moved over his eyes.
It looked like plastic.
There were no eyelids.
Only two large, plastic-looking eyes.
Then they began to turn black.
I looked inside for a second.
He smirked.
Something was inside.
It looked almost like a small cartoon crocodile, but it wasn't a crocodile.
It was smooth, deep green mixed with black.
Its eyes were in almost the same place as human eyes, but slightly sideways. They were stretched, almost like triangles.
I moved farther away.
His face began to change.
“Help me,” he said in a different voice.
“We will,” I said.
The man breathed heavily and relaxed.
He smiled.
I touched his shoulder.
Then I moved my hand toward the window, as if I were throwing something outside.
And I left the room.
