Somebody’s Watching Me

When I woke up this morning I could feel the eyes on my skin, crawling all over me, making sure nothing I did was missed. I don’t like the feeling. I showered as hot as I could stand it to force my body to forget about it, but that didn’t work. I pulled my clothes on my still-damp body and headed for the kitchen for breakfast.

The meatloaf had eyes in it. I decided to pass on breakfast. 

I flopped on the couch and dug the remote from under the cushions. I hit he power button and tried to zone out in front of daytime television. It didn’t work. Court shows are only so distracting. 

When I signed up to be a guinea pig for this experiment, I didn’t think it through; it just seemed like an easy way to take a year off. I should have read the fine print telling me that I never got a day off. 

After nineteen weeks of being watched, I can’t escape it anymore. Cameras and sensors and mics, oh my.

Fiction for Tues Truthiness at TBP

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