The Face on the TV
Most people see her first—their attention drawn in by the blurry face, the hands pressed against the glass. It’s a sad image, a scary vision, but what do I know when it comes to the terror of others?
I know a lot actually, but it’s my face no one looks at. My fractured frown beneath vacant eyes that everyone tends to miss, but I hold my own vigil; waiting, watching, always at the ready.
They’re scared at the sight of the woman trapped, but they should be frightened of me as I’m the one who put her there. I’m the Face on the TV and I’m always watching.
© 2018 Julianne Snow