He was tucked in, his eyelashes batting every now and then, his dreams chasing him endlessly. He snored quietly, just his spastic breathing being heard all around the empty house.
And the eyes were fixated on him.
The eyes were wide open, glowing red and fluorescent in the darkness. They were curious, and followed every little move he made.
What was she doing? Why was she doing that? Why was she just watching him sleep, buried deep in the sandy beaches of tranquility? She didn't know.
Her mouth was open ever so slightly, an infinite yet almost inexistent space separating her upper and bottom lips. She smiled once in a while, amused by the childish reactions to his nightmares.
He began to cry, trembling nonstop, his eyebrows arched above his beautiful hazel eyes, his lips shaking and letting out almost inaudible weeps.
She got up, tip toeing in his direction, her arms covered in moonlight and dust, trying to reach him, touch him.
He woke up, gasping terrified.
And he met those eyes, he saw those black fingers reaching him. He tried to feel her.
But she turned to dust again, like she did every other night. And he sighed sadly, like he was used to doing.
And dispersed all over the room, in every corner, every piece of furniture, she kept watching him, always pondering what would happened if he ever got to feel her touch.
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