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Fiction: Haunting suspicion

It’s funny how you can spend your entire day baking and come home and bake some more. But that’s what I did last night.

After a delicious dinner with my parents – my mom seriously makes the best meatballs on the planet – I came home and decided to make my mom a batch of Chocolate-Covered Cherry Cookies. Her favorite, of course.

I took my time making the dough and even more time filling the cookies. I guess I figured that the longer I took making her cookies, the more likely I was to forget about what I saw yesterday afternoon.

I haven’t told anyone about it. I didn’t tell April when I went back to the bakery – though I did have some explaining to do when I came back without lattes. I didn’t tell my parents over dinner. And I didn’t call anyone when I went home.

But I thought about that guy – at least I think it was a guy. He haunted me. The outline of his body stalked me. I found myself trying to picture him coming toward me to see whether I could remember any real features like hair, height, build but I could see nothing.

And how do you tell people about a nothing? You can’t – not even if his mere presence made the hairs on your arm stand up and sent shivers up your back.

Kimberly Dupps Truesdell is the assistant features editor for The Journal Gazette. This blog is written as the main character of the newspaper's summer fiction series, "Queen of the City: A recipe for a mystery."