Bob was home all alone, watching the television. The news reporter was describing the profile of a murderer, who was on the loose. He shifted his gaze to the sliding glassdoors leading to his backyard, and noticed someone standing out in the snow. He fitted the profile of the murderer. And he smiled at Bob. Gulping, Bob picked up the phone next to him and dialed for 999 with trembling hands. He turned his head towards the glassdoor again as he pressed the phone to his ear. That someone was coming closer. Slowly but surely. Then, Bob's phone dropped. His mouth was agape, as he realised that there were no footprints in the snow. It was his own reflection
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