Bad Optics

Although quite sure he was alone, Dufresne had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He shut the tap and peeked out the shower curtain. Nothing. The sensation was close, intimate and threatening. As the suds sloshed between his feet, he spotted it. Something was glowering at him from the drain. The stare coming from the pipe was unmistakable. He shivered, grabbed a towel and squelched down to the garage.

It was still there watching, unblinking, when he returned with some tools. He fumbled with the cover, wiping sweat and soap from his eyes, but was soon lifting the grate, prepared to stab whatever beast were to leap out at him with the screwdriver.

Dufresne sighed in relief. No, no monster in the drain. How could he have been so stupid? He thought, reaching in gingerly and pulling the eyeball out by the nerves and muscles dangling off the back.