I’m not sure when I first noticed it. Maybe four or five days ago. I’ve been inside for a while, so it’s hard to remember. I got sick, as I often do with the change from hot to cold weather, so I’ve had little to occupy my time other than video games, chatting on the internet or phone, and looking out the window and watching people go about their days.
What struck me was the way everyone was smiling. Mind you, even everyone smiling at once is bizarre, but this wasn’t even regular smiling. It was something different. Everyone had the same smile: a quaint little curl of the lips, as if they’ve been told to put on their most polite face. There’s no joy in it.
It got weirder when they started to catch my gaze in the window. The same vacant look, but their eyes—all of their eyes were wide open, as if they’d just made some discovery. No one stopped, and they only glanced at me in passing. But I’ve been noticing it happen with increasing frequency. On the first day it might have been two or three people; now, it’s every single person that walks by.
I’ve felt better for a couple of days. There’s nothing preventing me from going outside, and honestly I think it’d be good for my mental health to just go out and join society. I’m clearly wigging out. People do that when they get too settled in their own world and separated from everyone else.
Even so, I’ve decided to stay in. I’ve closed my blinds. Nobody can look in at least now, and I occupy my time more and more with video games and TV. I tell myself it’s best to stay in a bit longer in case I’m contagious. I wouldn’t want to give anyone else what I have.
Today was the day when I started to get really concerned. First it was TV. I saw some miserable news, as is all too common, but the reporter wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He was wearing the same smile. It was unnerving, and for a moment I thought everyone had gone mad but me.
Things went from eerie to terrifying when I finally broke down and ordered delivery. I’m running low on food. You can only eat sandwiches and frozen pizzas for so long, and I was craving delivery. Ever leery of having to see anyone from outside still, I clicked “no-contact” delivery. I’ve done it many times in the past and had no reason to think it wouldn’t work this time.
But when the buzzer rang and I went to my door, the delivery guy didn’t just drop my food off and leave as usual. I could hear him. He was still out there, not moving, even after 30 seconds. I waited silently, holding my breath, only a door separating us—hoping he would just leave.
Fed up, I checked the peep hole and nearly fell over I jumped so hard. He was there, smiling at me. He can’t see me—it’s one way—yet even then his gaze seemed to peer directly into mine. He wasn’t just looking through the whole, but at me.
“Thanks, please leave,” I managed to choke out. But he didn’t. He started humming. A low, guttural hum that almost sounded like a snore. Or a growl. I threatened to call the cops and only then did he leave.
Things have only gotten worse since then. I’ve noticed more and more shadows outside of my windows. And instead of just walking by, they’re stationery. And they’re letting out the same hum as the delivery guy.
I don’t know if anyone else is going through the same thing right now. I’m really freaked out, to say the least. And part of me figures I should just go outside, and I’ll realize it’s all part of my imagination—a weird convergence of events picked out by a hyperactive mind with nothing else to do. I know I can make this all stop if I just open the door and step out on to that sidewalk. But something in the back of my head tells me everyone in this world has gone mad but me.