Roger reckoned he saw a face at the window. He was sitting watching television one evening, and he looked over and saw this horrific face staring at him through the window.
Everyone said he was nuts. It’ll just be a passer-by, someone suggested. It might be a thief, suggested another. It was a terrible face, said Roger. It was the devil.
Everyone laughed at that. Yeah, right. The devil!
Roger saw the face again, and again. He said the face grew uglier and more terrifying every time he saw it. He was going mad. A friend stayed over, and the face didn’t appear. Then when the friend left, the face appeared.
It’ll just be a passer-by. Just a passer-by. Roger was found blubbering in a corner, whimpering like a sick dog. He never recovered. Just a passer-by.
But it couldn’t have been a passer-by; Roger lived on the forty-seventh floor.