"Blaine!," Rachel yelled.  "Earth to Blaine!"

Blaine snapped out of his trance.  He had been staring at the TV, where the local news program was discussing a serial killer on the loose, suspected to be in Lima.  Blaine had heard plenty of rumors about him, from the mailman to the supermarket cashier to the dentist.  Everyone was talking about him and everything he heard was different: the killer was a cannibal.  His face was horribly disfigured.  He went crazy after his wife died.  He skinned women alive and was making a dress out of them.

Blaine suspected that last one was inspired by The Silence of the Lambs.  Nevertheless, everyone seemed obsessed with him.  And now he was getting sucked in too, apparently.

"Yes, Rachel?", he said, turning around in his chair to look at her.  She had on a gray sweater and a blue skirt, one hand on her hip.  He must have somehow screwed up.  Again.

"Stop watching that already," Rachel said, grabbing the remote and clicking it off.  "Im sick of everyone talking about that guy.  And you should get to work, anyways."

Work.  Yet another thing that they argued about.  

Blaine had quit his job as a banker about four months ago.  He hated it anyways- he despised the strictness and the tiresome dullness of it all.  Blaine knew, ever since he was just a young kid, that his true calling was to become a performer.  He dreamed of being a star on Broadway, dazzling and bringing joy to people every night.  But he knew Rachel would never let him do it.  It was too risky, she would argue, and he probably was going to turn them both broke and homeless.

A long time ago, Rachel also wanted to be a Broadway star.  After all, their shared passion was what drew them together.  But now, she dismissed his ambitions as a silly fantasy.  He knew she wanted him to grow up.  Get a real job.  Just like she did.

So Blaine settled for another creative outlet- writing.  He had somehow managed to convince Rachel not to worry.  Since he worked at home, hed be able to take care of the housework and the cooking.  He promised her that he would get something published soon and hed be able to provide for them.

So far, nothing.

Blaine turned the TV back on soon after Rachel left.  It wasnt like he was procrastinating writing.  Not at all.  As a writer, it was important for Blaine to observe people.  And this killer seemed interesting enough.

A blurry picture was shown of him along with a description.  Height: 510".  Weight: 170 lbs.  Race: White.  Sex: Male.  Hair: Brown.  Eyes: Green.

Accused of killing at least two dozen people.

Even though the picture was a bit grainy, Blaine could see that his eyes werent just a flat green- they were a beautiful multi-dimensional color with flecks of gold.  Maybe they were glasz? Blaine wasn't completely sure what that meant, but he couldn't quite figure out any other words for it.  It was nothing like he had ever seen before- he was jealous his own eyes werent that color.

Blaine suddenly realized that he just thought that he thought a murderer was beautiful and internally slapped himself.  What was wrong with him?  He really needed to stop watching so much TV.  Or at least watch something other than the news.

A female broadcaster talked about how he was suspected of killing six men last week.  The only connection between them was that they had all graduated from McKinley High School.  Until then, she urged, everyone should be home before 10 pm and try not to go anywhere alone.  It was especially important that McKinley high school graduates be careful.  After all, he police suspected that the killer was still somewhere in Ohio.

Blaine felt like he should be scared of this murderer, running around and killing people, so close to him.  And he did, but he also felt excited.  He knew he shouldnt, but this was Lima.  Nothing happened here.  At this point, he welcomed any change.

Two hours had passed before Blaine finally shut off the TV.  The program had changed from the news to some Spanish soap opera and he had enough to watching bad actors screech at each other.  Especially when he had no idea what they were even saying.

He got up from the couch and stretched.  He should probably start writing now.  In fact, he should have started writing this morning.  But Blaine figured that being at home was way too distracting.  He needed to go somewhere quiet, with just him and his laptop, so he could properly work.

Blaine decided to go to the Lima Bean.  He got into his car and began to drive.  He knew that it was mostly just because he craved coffee, but he figured he might as well as get some work done while he was there.  Besides, it was good to get out of the house.  Maybe observing some of the coffee shop customers would inspire him and cure his writers block.

Blaine sighed, turning the steering wheel.  Writers block.  When he told Rachel about it, she simply sighed.  He could tell she predicted something like this would happen.

That was the last time he mentioned it.  Now, whenever she asked how his writing was coming along, he always told her everything was going great, he was almost done, just a couple of more days.

Blaine arrived at the Lima Bean and parked near the front.  He walked inside, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.  Blaine ordered a medium drip and waited it for to come before sitting at a small table next to the window.  He surveyed the others in the shop.  It was relatively empty right now, but that might have just been because of the paranoia running through the town.  Out of the people there, however, he couldnt spot anyone who looked particularly compelling.

He gave up on finding inspiration.  Blaine didnt need it anyways- all he needed to write was his brain and his laptop.  He opened his computer and pulled up an empty word document.  Staring at the empty page, he drummed his fingers on the keyboard.

Hesitantly, Blaine started typing:

The boy looked out the window, wondering what to do.

He read the sentence to himself before hastily hitting the delete button, getting rid of all of it.  It was stupid sentence.  So ridiculously stupid.  Was he really running so low on ideas that he was now journaling his sad, pathetic life?

Blaine took a sip of coffee, nearly burning his tongue in the process.  He allowed himself to look out the window and see what was going on, which wasnt much.  He could only see two people milling around: a woman walking her dog and a jogger.

In the distance, Blaine could see a figure walking in his direction. It appeared to be a woman wearing all black, which was highly unusual for a town like this.  Blaine peered into the window, trying to see if he knew her.  If he had seen someone like that, he would surely remember.  He thought he heard Rachel mention something about a couple moving in nearby.  Maybe this was her?  

The woman came closer, but she gazed mostly at the ground as if wanting to avoid everyone.  She seemed to feel weight of Blaines gaze, however, and glanced up at him.

Blaine involuntarily let out a loud gasp, feeling his mouth freeze into an "O" of shock and his body go rigid.  He knew those eyes.