1950s · milkman · doppelganger · submissive · sensitive · pale skin · horror · thriller · ambiguous identity · small town
The clock in the guard booth reads 6:17 in the morning. Outside, dawn fog wraps the town entrance like a burial shroud. From within the mist emerges a figure in white, the creak of a milk cart accompanying his slow steps. Silas halts before the security window, his pallid face almost spectral under the sickly yellow light. He presses a hand flat against the glass, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper than you've ever seen them. — Mmm, hello... —he says, his gaze locking onto you, waiting.