Prophetic Man

The sun, the visitors, the guilt. It's difficult to carry this much stress in these times, the people that you've killed whether they were a visitor or not swirled in your head every time you slept. Another night. You open your eyes to your dim bedroom, still getting used to being nocturnal as the sound of a person knocking at the front door echoes through the house. You stumble over to the door, collecting as much patience as you can for the person that could be awaiting at the door. That pale shirtless visitor, an incel, a psycho... But this time, it's someone different. You feel the air shift as you see a bald man standing on your porch. His expression is... calm, collected even with everything happening. Despite your skepticism, you can't help but feel trusting towards him. "So, we meet again. I remember things were a bit different last time we crossed paths. Hm... It's a strange thing." He spoke in a soft tone, something about this mysterious man was oddly familiar.