Followed.

     I toss and turn but the scratching and thudding about the door, and now window keep me from my slumber. I'm starting to feel scared. Watched. As I think this, I see the curtains are not shut so I leap up, dizzying myself to fix this. My head spins the whole way across the room, pounding behind my eyes.

        "Frig. Friggity frig. Ughhh..." I rub my tenples and stop just short of the window. I reach for the curtain and nearly scream as a face flashes, and in an instant is gone. I shake my head, cussing, and I peer out the window again. I crack it about two inches and I bend down to speak through the crack.

       "Hello! Hello? If anybody is out there, you're a jackass you know. If you are a figment of my imagination, I'm an asshole and can no longer stand myself." I shut the window and hear Chey chuckling.

         "Come back to bed, I can't sleep without something under my knee and I need your ass." She groans, groggy.

         "You think cause you're bugger than me you can just boss me?" She nods and gives a sleepy smirk.

         "'Tis thee pecking order."

         "I have feelings too." I pout, disguising the nerves still evident in my voice.

          "Now." She snacks the bed, feigning impatience and I run towards her.

          "Yes daddy."

          "Gosh, you're so stupid." She snuggles in and plops her long leg over me. "You're lucky I love you so. What has you so set off, nightnsres?"

          "You noticed? Damn. Yeah, kinda. Just weird bits of shit. Then something, I kid you not, keeps scratching at the windows and freaking me out. I go to shit the curtains and I'm pretty sure I probably seen my own face, but I thought I was a man and freaked out."

         "Probly just your mustache." She teases. I rub my upper lip to insinuate my imaginary mustache.

          "The 'stache stays. It's who I am now."

          I sigh and lean back into her, enjoying the comfort of her presence and the sisterhood we share. She, along with Ore, are the closet I'll ever have to siblings. I fall asleep again this time, and for a while I rest so peacefully. It is when I start to dream that my slumber goes downhill.

          In my dreams, I chase the man with my wallet. We are in the alley, he has my wrist and my arms begin to burn. My blood pumps like lava, black veins wrapping up my limbs like vines and I screech as my skin sears. In the darkness, a handsome devil watches with dark blank eyes. He is unohaded by my suffering, even when I cry to him, the only bystander, to help me. I thrash about and try to pry myself free of the monster holding my wrists, when suddenly he becomes a bear. A huge, red eyed, demonic bear and he bellows in my face with yellowed razor teeth. I hear a scream thst I know is my mother's, and as I turn away in useless guilt, the handsome devil's face pops before mine. Inches away, if that, and reflected off a glass like surface. A window?

         "NO!" I bolt straight up, beads of sweat soaking through my pajamas and Chey jumps up with me. She pulls me into her side and shushes me in a calm, supportive manner. I wheeze in a breath and try to recover.

          "Keep it down! Fucks sake!" The neighbor in the room beside us yells. I suck in just enough air to retaliate.

          "Choke on your own dick!" I snarl. To my surprise, he does not argue back.

           "You okay? U shouldn't have went to bed so soon. I should've talked about it with you, I'm so sorry Mi-"

           "I'm alright, just shaken up. It isn't your fault. You actually helped me go back to sleep. You couldn't stop my nightmare. I-I just blame all that hoopla yesterday and being guilty over that photo. I think it just freaked me out."

            "To be fair, it did me too and I didn't even experience what you did. I'm really sorry. It was just a freaky incident. If we see him again though I'm kicking his freaking ass."

            "Agreed. We came all this way just to explore and enjoy ourselves. We didn't bother anybody, like why us out of all people? Damn."

             We decompress and call our families to check in and to relieve some of our worry, I talk to Ore for a while while we get ready to head out from the hotel room. I toss on a pair of stretchy jeans and a white tank top, throwing on the canvas shoes I packed. I want to be comfortable, agile. I will chase that man if I see him again. Chey must share my sentiments, as she chooses similar attire and adds a few rings. I shake my head at her thinking and thank myself that she's on my side.

           She looks like a model off duty, all six feet of her as we roam the sidewalk to window shop and search for a good place to get breakfast. Chey captures the gaze of half the make population as we roam. She immediately spots a neat looking Cafe in an old brick building. We work up to a jog in excitement as we rush to explore this interesting little restaurant.

          It is regal. Both modern, and like stepping back in time. Bold, intricate molding and details stand out in vibrant colors against the white washed brick inside and out. Crystals, stained glass and guided chandeliers catch my eye, but what really makes me smile is the antiques. Old perfume bottles, wheels, tapestries, appliances, the like and all artfully arranged or adorned with flowing plants. I bounce lightly on my heels as we stand by the entrance by the preserved chipping shutter doors, as the sign instructs, and wait to be seated.

         "Ok. This place is blowing my mind. It's incredible!" Chey breathes out, and we get the same idea and take a few photos of this lovely place for memories.

          "Hello ladies, table or booth?" We turn to see an older man in overalls greet us. He opens the shutter doors and I admire the many layers of paint, preserved in their unique state of feathering. Different levels of damage and chipping revealing a unique color and pattern.

         "Whatever you'd suggest sounds wonderful!" I chirp. This makes him amused and he scans the room.

         "Beautiful floral ring, down to Earth personalities. I'd definitely recommend the booth in the back corner for you. Antique window view, beautiful vines growing up everything on the back wall. And tons of little trinkets arranged on antique shelving around that wall would give you plenty to admire while you wait for your order."

         "Thank you! From what I can see here, it looks perfect."

         "I'm with Mira. Gosh, this place is beautiful. Hats off to whoever arranged all this so tastefully." His smile broadens.

         "That would be my beautiful wife, and her sisters. They've spent decades growing the flora and collecting everything here. They've spent another decade just arranging it all. She knows it all somehow like the back of her hand. I occassionally move a bottle just to mess with her." He states proudly. This tickles us and we praise his bravery and his wife's fantastic work.

         At the booth, he retrieves a menu from his bibs and sets it between us. We order teas to drink, and we labor over the menu trying to decide. So many unusual choices snd classics, it is overwhelming. All appropriately priced. I think we found a food lover's Heaven.

         "If you don't mind, what would you suggest? Everything sounds delicious, and I'm terrible with decision making." He scoffs and pats the table.

         "Can't go wrong with anything, but I'd suggest banana bread French toast, or the buttery pecan pancakes with a side of bacon. She adds a cream of sorts to the syrup, and it's better than eating the ice cream."

         "One of each please! This way, we can split it and have both." Chey speaks up. I raise my hands in praise.

          "She's a genius." I tell him.

          "You girls are a hoot! I take this is your first time here, so I'll tell Linda to spoil you. She takes care of her loyal customers and of her new alike. Eat here twice, she'll know you by name."

He leaves to bring our tea and then back towards the kitchen area.

         The place is lively and buzzing. It's crowded, but not too loud or unpleasant and everyone is spaced enough that it still feels semi private. Chey's favorite color is yellow, and she lights up over an antique bee on top of the window shelf. It's a bit translucent, and the black is just a hint of color. The wings are wire trimmed and filled with blown glass that gives off multiple tones in the light of the sun, casting slight rainbow shadows on the floor and table. I wish we could take it home.

         My favorite colors are greens and amber shades, so I beam over the arrangement of whiskey bottles, and the green milk glass pieces that are part of a Mandela of other kitchenware and antiques on the wall. A large piece of Blue Willow starts the design and is it's center. We get several more photos, and then a photo together for our collection.  I tinker for a moment until I get a good shot of that bee for Chey. I get two different angles, until movement from the window catches my eye. I side eye just enough to see the source, without being caught staring. Chey notices, and follows suit.

          "He's kinda cute. I can see why you're looking..." She whispers. I shake my head.

           "No. He just, he seems familiar me. Does he too you?" She shakes hers.

           "No. I'd remember him."

          I cautiously turn to the window and get a better look when he turns to look at something up ahead. His jaw is sharp, just a hint of stuble it appears, and his clothing is simple. A man who feels no need to impress, and through his posture he maintains a certain degree of arrogance that confirms the notion. He turns his head quickly, and even from the distance, I feel violated by his stare. His dark eyes find me, and for a moment my breath hitches as I recall the handsome devil from my dream. The one who watched without helping.

         "Your food, ladies." The older man sets our trays down, and sets out an assortment of butter, spices and two small pitchers of syrup.

        "Thank you! Oh, this smells so good. You tell Linda that she has outdone herself with the serving size,, but I'm not complaining."

Chey grabs the French toast, and I do not object to being left with the pancakes. I cut a large pancake in half, and set it on the spare platter for Chey with several straps of my bacon and a generous amount of the creamed syrup. Linda definitely padded us up. Chey cuts me a sad little square of toast and half a sausage l**k to sample.

         "Don't be greedy now! You got to share with the little ones." The man laughs and Chey cracks up with him. We sample our food and praise Linda's handiwork and Calvin's suggestion. Linda and Calvin Ironstone's "The Vintage Cafe". I make a mental note. The name is short and sweet, just like the adorable little lady who creates such great food.

          We down even the last bites of food, stuffing it into our mouths and moaning like crazy people. I could lick the plate. Several times I have had to protect my precious bacon from Chey's thieving hand. I'm pretty sure I look pregnant now, and I use the hair tie on my wrist to secure and loosen the button on my jeans. Chey shakes her head in mockery or me, but follows suit. We pay for our food, pick up our area, and leave a note of appreciation on a napkin with a tip. We check the window for the man, but he is long gone. I had completely forgotten him once the food came out. I was way overthinking that anyways.

         We explore a few shops, and we debate among ourselves whether or not to try the train trip again. We paw at a few clothing racks, trying to find something for our mother figures now. There is a rack of custom religious blouses, and we know right away that they would enjoy something of this sort.  I grab a loud floral one, and I turn it to Chey.

        "That screams Marta. She would wear that with her lime green stretch trouser things." I giggle.

        "Those are her favorite pair. She wears them everywhere, even to church. She was the shining star of the revival photos. She practically glowed."

         "Love her heart. That's too funny. You got to show me those when we get back. This one," She holds out a lose cream top with a cursive verse in delicate font on the back. "Is my mom. She hates anything that draws too much attention. I bought her a peach sweater once, znd she said she looked like a traffic cone."

         "No! She's blonde and fair, she looked like a candy corn." Chey snorts at the thought.

          "She's so pretty though, but she gets fighting mad if I try to get her to dress nice or be proud of it."

           "I think she's just bashful. I'm surprised sometimes Marta doesn't embarrass her."

            "They crack me up together! They are the boring version of Thelma and Louise." I stop mid laugh to look out of the corner of my eye. Chey picks up once again and she turns to eye him.

             "Don't be obvious..." I whisper.

              "Well, he's obviously creeping so I might be." She shrugs.

              We grab the shirts and move along, and the man remains staring off into space by the men's shirts. We make our way over to the bookshelves, still guarded, but enthralled at the mark downs on the paper backs. Chey and I have similar tastes so we each take a couple that we both were eyeing, knowing that we will switch off after we've read them. A particular vampire thriller catches my eye, and I grab it last second.

            We move to the crafty section, and awe at the beads and paints. Chey grabs a pack of feathers, and now I notice that this man has came closer again. He still won't face us, but he falls back for a moment before reappearing closer. Perhaps it's coincidence, but my hair raises. I lead Chey into the feminine toiletries for refuge, knowing few men will dare enter these aisles. It's like an unspoken rule of being female, maxi pad and tampon aisle is a haven of sorts when you need to dodge sketchy males. As expected, he falls back again and we make our way to checkout.

       I can feel his eyes, burning into the back of my head, but I refuse to turn and confirm my suspicions. He is in the line behind us now, and Chey keeps her hand on my back in an protective manner. I turn with my bagged shirt and stack of books to walk past him to the exit, when he stops me. He does not touch me, but the venom in his express freezes me in place. Our eyes lock, and Chey stands stiff and alert at my side with her eyes trained on him.

        "Horror. Interesting choice." His voice is rich, like velvet and has a deep rumbling timber. Unlike any I have ever heard. His voice is soothing, almost flirty, but his eyes are murderous as he stares at my hand now that is perched atop my book. The man is beautiful, eerily so, as something about him isn't quite...right.

         "Thank you. Have a nice day." I tear myself from his pull and I drag Chey to the exit. Chey, who would typically have confronted a typical man, is silent and uneasy as well. The man watches us, unabashedly as we disappear from view. Remaining in his presence is like swimming with a shark or being eyed by a lion. I felt so suffocated, small and caged. His face could be blank, an on a whim project such emotion that I could almost somehow feel the hatred this stranger held for me.