Chapter 1

He thought of himself as the Watcher. He didn't always; it was that woman in the hospital that named him. Sitting in a group session one day she mentioned that she noticed he spent a lot of time watching people and would he want to talk about it; actually he didn't. Perhaps she should have been a better watcher; then she might not have ended up stuffed in several shelves in a closet on the night he left. Looking back on it he thought he could have done better, but then he had learned a lot since then.

Now that he thought about it, he realized he had always been a watcher; he existed at the edge of society where he would not be noticed. His handiwork was noticed though; he made sure of that. He was sitting in a cafe, about a block away from the city park in the middle of this town. From his seat near the front he could see down the block to where the police cars were parked haphazardly around the park, lights flashing, several officers in the street waving everyone by while a group of others were standing in the middle of the park looking at something by the base of a tree. He knew they could see his handiwork and appreciate it.

It was morning and the café was about half filled. He watched the other diners. He looked at what they were wearing. He had made sure he wore the same kind of clothes so he would blend in. He practiced the looks on their faces. He did not quite understand what the person felt when they smiled but he had learned when he should smile, or frown. Occasionally he would make a mistake and use the wrong facial expression and get a funny look from someone; but he had gotten better at it, that rarely happened any more.

He looked at a couple across the room; the girl must have said something the guy did not like because he was frowning. The watcher tried to match the frown; tightening the muscles in his forehead. When he thought he had it right he moved on to the next table; two women were talking, one laughing while telling a story. He smiled and pretended to say words, his lips moving, to see if he could keep the smile on his face; he was pleased with the results. He looked on to the next table and saw a man sitting alone, looking at him. He had a different look on his face, kind of a frown but different. Then it came to him; he was watching me, he's wondering.

The Watcher knew he could not just jump up and leave, that might increase the man's curiosity. He looked down at his plate; he had finished his breakfast already so he kept his eyes down and finished his coffee. After a few minutes he left a tip and walked over to the counter to pay his tab. From there he could see the man from the side. He was no longer looking at him. The Watcher felt a new sensation; was that relief? He decided it was. He did not really want to have to kill the man, not that he was reluctant to kill, but he was old, there would be no challenge, and besides, he preferred to save his attention for the young girls.

When he got outside he walked to the next storefront before he looked back to the city park; he did not want the old man to notice him looking and begin to wonder about him and perhaps say something to someone else.

He gazed back at the park remembering the young woman, remembering her big erect nipples. His hand slipped into his pants pocket, feeling the bag. It was only right that he kept them; a souvenir to remember his time with her.

There were more police cars now; where before it was just locals, now he saw that some state cars had joined them. It was time to leave this town. He had fun with three girls up to now but now it was time to move on. He turned away and walked down the street; a practiced smile on his face.