Oh no, it was the freak. He chided himself for thinking that way. It was bad to judge people on appearances. But he knew there was something wrong with this person, and that his appearance only seemed to heighten his horror. Not everyone thought he looked as freaky as he did, but they all hated him, for what reason no one could surely say. He certainly felt an odd tingle travel up his arm as his skin turned into gooseflesh.

He had taken out a pen and was tossing it. That would have been fine with anyone else. Except for the mechanical way he did it. He didn't toss it casually, or particularly high in the air. He just put his hand right in front of his face, riveted his eyes on the pen and tossed. His head jerking to follow the movement of the object. Morbidly switching direction as he began to follow a robotic rhythm. His eyes, behind those round glasses were absolutely fixated on one point of the pen as it went flying through its path in the air. Expressionless, but yet still captivated.

He shuddered, things like these kept him up at night.

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