In a small town where the shadows stretched long at dusk, Ron lived a peaceful and solitary life. He was a quiet and well-mannered young man, a lover of books who spent hours immersed in the worlds of novels that carried him far from his daily routine. His room was filled with books, each holding a piece of his soul within its pages. However, there was one thing in his life he could not escape—an immense eye that watched him from the sky.

  The eye was an anomaly in the heavens, so vast it could see beyond what any human could imagine. Its iris was an intense shade of green, surrounded by a brilliant white that seemed to glow with a light of its own. At first glance, its presence was terrifying, as if it scrutinized every corner of the world, observing every passerby, every secret hidden in the shadows. Most of the town's inhabitants lived with a constant sense of unease, a knot in their stomachs that followed them wherever they went.

  Despite the general discomfort, Ron did not share their apprehension. From the first day he saw it, he felt drawn to the magnitude of that eye. While his neighbors averted their gazes, he watched it with fascination. He wondered what thoughts lay hidden behind its gaze and whether, in some way, the eye also knew about his love for books and the worlds he explored. While others locked themselves inside at nightfall, he remained in his garden, a book in hand, lost in his stories as the eye watched him from above.

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Ron continued his life, enjoying his routine. He woke early to go to work, spending hours in the town library, surrounded by books and the soft rustling of turning pages. People often whispered about the eye, speaking in hushed tones about its ominous presence. However, for Ron, it was a constant reminder that the world was far bigger than people believed.

  One night, after a long day at work, Ron left the library with a tired mind but a light spirit. The moon lit his path as he walked through the empty streets. The eye was there once again, gazing at him with the same curiosity he had felt for it all these years. This time, however, the eye was closed, as if it had decided to rest from the world.

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  “Sleep well, my friend. Looks like you’re tired too,” Ron murmured with a smile, feeling connected in some way to that celestial presence.

  He continued on his way home, the night wrapping him in a mantle of calm. Once inside, he shed the fatigue of the day and settled into bed. The softness of the sheets and the whisper of the wind outside lulled him to sleep.

  “Good… tomorrow is Saturday,” he said, closing his eyes, a peaceful sensation enveloping him. The eye remained in his mind, a silent guardian of his dreams.

  The eye in the sky had become an inseparable part of the town’s life. Some called it “the Watcher,” while others referred to it as “the Eye of the Night.” During the day, its presence was overwhelming; its omniscient gaze fell upon everyone, laying bare their secrets and deepest fears. Conversations in the streets revolved around it—nervous whispers exchanged in the dim corners of cafés or within the privacy of homes. Many felt their lives were marked by anxiety, forever under the relentless observation of that celestial entity.

  For most, the night brought a temporary relief. When the sun dipped below the horizon, the eye would slowly close, as if sinking into a deep slumber. It was then that the town could breathe again. Laughter and chatter resumed, and the shadows seemed less menacing. People gathered in the plazas, exchanging stories and sharing moments that the eye, with its unyielding presence, had stolen from them during the day.

  Yet, for those who feared the eye, its closing was merely a brief respite. They knew that at dawn, it would open once more, and with it, fear would creep back into their hearts. Legends about the eye spread—some said it was an ancient god who had chosen to watch over humanity, while others believed it was a punishment for the world’s sins.

  But for Ron, the eye was something else. It was a reminder of the wonder of the universe, a symbol of the unknown that had always fascinated him. While others feared what the eye might see, he found comfort in it. His curiosity was greater than his fear, and with each glance at the sky, he saw the promise of stories waiting to be discovered—not only in books but also in life itself.

  And so, the town carried on with its routine, the Watcher looming above, and Ron, always at peace, ready to face another day under its gaze, aware that the true wonder lay in the connection they all shared with that immense eye watching from the infinite.

  “Hey, friend! Have a great day!” Ron greeted the sky.

  The eye looked at him and blinked once.

  Ron laughed.

  “Oh? Yes? Yes what?”