I saw him for the first time when I was only four. His childish profile was a shadow behind my own face. My reflection in the window separated my bedroom from the dark backyard, separated me from him. It was a safe enough wall. I knew he could never break even that thin barrier. Never did he turn his face to mine, though I suspect he stole a glance whenever I turned away. Yet, each time I looked back, he was looking at something past my window, beyond my yard, at something far away from me.