08

I walked the route, taking drinks to the people on the raised platform of the club where couches and coffee tables were. It was more like a lounge on that raised platform than anything else-in my opinion.

Once I dropped their drinks, I turned and raced back to my bar stool. The club may have been busy, but there wasn't much demand for drinks.

I watched the swaying forms on the dance floor, giving it my best effort not to stare at my stalker who had given himself the work of sitting in any corner of the bar while I served the customers.

He's been doing that since I last had an attack on my way home. He was stubborn and strange. Once, when it was 5pm in the evening, he would occupy a seat and order one thing or the other.

The way he usually stared at me as I served the customers, would make me feel awkward and strange. I would sometimes try not to act clumsy while dropping the drinks on their tables. I had stepped up to him and asked him to leave me alone, but he only told me that h