Summer 1847 – The Eyes of Strangers Staring Back

Lissie sipped her tea. I could smell the tang of young whiskey mixed with the aroma of mint. She looked at me briefly then turned her attention to the fields outside her window. She said, “At first, I thought I was imagining it. I’d look in the glass and I’d catch my reflection’s eye just a hair later than seemed natural. I’d get the shivers but I reasoned that I was just feeling nerves, what with the baby coming and those Campbell boys feuding with Nathan. Then, a month past last Monday, I couldn’t catch my eye, that is, its eye, at all. Not for a full minute.”