He nodded as he closed the door shut, tapping Mary on the head slightly. As they both exchanged glances, he turned and moved toward his lounge to rest up for the night.
He eventually moved away, but oddly enough, they didn't drive off right away. Instead, the car lingered at the edge of the road, idling silently for a while longer, as if waiting for some unspoken signal.
It wasn't until he had passed through the towering gates of Silverstone Avenue that they finally pulled away. The whole thing struck him as a little strange—unsettling, even.
It reminded him of those childhood mornings when his mother would sit in the car, watching intently to make sure he walked safely through the school gates before she drove off.
There was something oddly familiar about it—comforting on one hand, but also strangely invasive, like he was being watched just a little too closely.
