Staring out the window, I look at the figure smiling at me in the dark, night air.
Her smile is...wrong, too wide, and her eyes scare me, making me think she's staring into my soul.
She wears the face of my mother, but my heart knows it cannot be her.
Her hand reaches up to touch the glass, and I see nails sharp as razors...a chill runs down my spine.
I hear my mother call my name, and turn to find my real mom, making me sigh in relief.
But when I turn back around, the Not Mom is no longer there...yet I still see the marks from her nails on the glass.
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