He was there again, sitting in the tree behind her house, the glow of a cigarette cherry giving away his location. She knew his whole purpose was to not be seen, but he wanted her to see him. Sin sighed, pushing away from the window, and letting the blood red curtian fall back into place. This had been the third week in a row that he had shown up in her tall sycamore tree, just sitting on a high branch, and starring, at h...