Chapter 11

The air this morning… sharp, not freezing, not yet, just that kind of air that stings your nose and makes you think you forgot how to breathe. I pulled the jacket tight, coffee tray wobbling in my hand, trying not to spill it. I wasn’t even thinking about anything, honestly. I was just… in that blank morning state. And then—ugh. that stupid feeling. the one that doesn’t even announce itself right, just creeps up the back of your neck. like a static charge.

I slowed. Didn’t want to. but I did. glanced behind me. and yeah. yeah. him.

still there. leaning on that lamppost like it was the most natural thing in the world. hood up. I couldn’t see much of his face, but that damn camera glinted when he moved. that’s how I knew it wasn’t just me. it wasn’t just paranoia. camera means deliberate. nobody just stands around in the cold holding a camera unless they’re here for something.

my chest went hot. curiosity? fear? anger? all of it, maybe. I didn’t even think about being smart. I just turned, walked toward him, coffee sloshing over my knuckles. crunch crunch of gravel under my boots. he didn’t even flinch. didn’t hide. like he wanted me to see him. like he was waiting.

and then I was almost close enough to call out, I opened my mouth and he—like that—slipped away. between vans, casual, quick, practiced. like he already knew I’d try to come closer.

and I was stupid enough to yell “hey!” like yelling would pull him back.

I went after him, fast, heart hammering, and nothing. nothing. the narrow strip between the buildings smelled of oil and rot and wet cardboard, bins dented, cat bolting past like smoke. no man. no footsteps. just absence.

and I stood there like an idiot, hands burning from the coffee cups pressed into my palms.

when I walked back to the office, my heart slowed but my stomach wouldn’t. twisted. knotted. Angela looked up, made some comment about how I looked like I’d been chasing someone. I said maybe I had. tried to brush it off. how do you even explain it?

you can’t. not when you’re not sure yourself.

the rest of the morning droned. phones ringing, clanging downstairs, the scrape of chairs, keys tapping. all that noise but it didn’t touch me. I was stuck in the loop of that man’s stillness. Dom dropped off reports, eyes skimming me, jaw tight. one of those moods. he didn’t talk much. I barely looked at him because I knew if I did I’d want to ask and I wasn’t ready to hear him say “no idea what you’re talking about” in that way he does.

lunchtime and the itch came back. couldn’t sit still. I went out, phone in hand, pretending to scroll like some bored office girl, but really I was watching. scanning. searching. every car door, every alley.

but no. just trucks roaring by, a woman with her dog tugging at the leash, a biker drifting past with music in his ears. normal. too normal.

I turned back fast, boots clicking like I was scared of being late to something.

inside I finally cornered Dom in the hall. asked if he’d noticed anyone outside. anyone with a camera. he froze. just for a second but I caught it. then he covered it. asked too many questions back. what kind of pictures, who, blah blah.

I said I didn’t get his name. tried to keep my tone light. but I watched his face. his mouth went flat. he told me not to wander up to strangers. which pissed me off. not because he was wrong but because that wasn’t the answer.

so I pushed. asked if he’d seen him.

and his pause was just long enough to make me want to scream.

he said stay inside. not my problem.

not my problem. what a joke. it’s my face behind that lens. my body walking across the lot. my skin prickling every time I step out. but fine.

afternoon dragged. copier upstairs jammed, I smacked it, papers half chewed. looked out the window while I waited. and there—again—him. hood. camera. far sidewalk.

I froze, leaned into the glass like that would help, my breath fogging the pane. heart in my throat. then a truck lumbered by and blocked my view. when it passed—gone.

how. how does he do that.

I stayed there longer than I should’ve, eyes darting like maybe I’d catch him reappearing, but no. just empty sidewalk.

Vincent came back later, laughing, slapping Dom’s shoulder, Angela smiling at something he said. I almost told him. the words were there, pressing at my teeth, but I swallowed them down. didn’t want to be the downer. didn’t want them looking at me like I was overreacting.

by shutdown, the light outside was gray. soft but heavy. I shut my computer, pulled my jacket up again, and stepped outside.

rain smell. sawdust smell. evening air.

I stood at the top of the steps scanning like I wasn’t scanning. just letting my eyes drag slow over the block, the alley, the parked cars. no hooded man. no camera. only workers finishing up, locks clanking, the streetlight humming itself awake.

I walked to my car, every step too loud in my own ears.

and I kept telling myself it was fine, he wasn’t there, it was done. but it’s not. I know it’s not. because even without seeing him, I felt it. that pressure. that heavy prickle crawling across my skin. he was there. maybe across the street. maybe around the corner. maybe five cars down, waiting.

just far enough to vanish. just close enough to watch.

and now I can’t even tell if I imagined it or if imagining it is exactly what he wants me to think.