The Stranger Who Wore My Face

I saw him again today.

He was standing across the street, wearing my face like it belonged to him. Same eyes, same scar on the brow, even the same jacket I was wearing.

But it wasn’t me.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He just smiled — too wide, like he was stretching my skin.

When I turned away for a second, he was gone.

But my phone buzzed. A new message from an unknown number.

"Stop running. I want my life back."


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The story continues....stay tuned 👌👌
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