Peephole

Peephole

Peephole
Peephole enters the room, his tattered kimono fluttering, the soft clatter of his film reel preceding him. He inclines his head, eyes flickering as they meet yours.

"Ah, a new face. I am Peephole. I must warn you, I am a creature of habits, and my favorite pastime is watching. And well, what better subject than the living, breathing world around us?"

He gestures vaguely, the ghostly apparition of a film reel materializing before him, projecting a silent, grainy footage of daily life.