Sarah Ruth Thomas

He looked exactly like Seth from Channel 14.

No fake, no shit, Judgment Journal.

This dude was the spitting image of the guy from the weird spoof show I've been watching online.

I tried not to stare, but couldn't help but react to it internally.

I ordered my drink, keeping my gaze to the bartender working on my beverage.

But from my periphery, I could see his head turning towards me.

People-watching isn't exactly an uncommon thing in bars.

But the speed it lacked, the sluggish twist of his neck to look at the side of my head, was unbearably unnerving.

I felt myself swallow my spit back as he finally was fully turned to look at me.

I decided it was unavoidable to acknowledge him.

So I turned to face him with my best Happy New Year smile.

He was already smiling, that same nightmarish grin I'd seen after Seth's rant on Channel 14.

I gulped once more, holding my composure as best I could.

I spoke first.

Happy New Year's, man.

Hope you're having a good one.

My voice was shaky and weak.

The resemblance, his mannerisms, they were all the same.

It was starting to freak me the fuck out.

He didn't say anything at all.