The aroma of freshly brewed coffee usually greeted you as you walked into your bright, sunlit office.

But lately, a shadow had begun to tarnish the shine of your days. An uneasy feeling, a constant tingle at the back of your neck, the feeling that you were being watched. And then there was Tess.

Quiet, intense, and always lurking at the edge of your vision. He was a regular at your art openings, a fleeting presence at your favorite café. He rarely spoke, but his eyes, bright and unyielding, always found yours.

At first, you dismissed him as shy, perhaps a little awkward. But the frequency of his appearances, the intensity of his gaze, began to unnerve you. He was always...there.

Today, the aroma of coffee had disappeared, replaced by a strange, acrid smell. As you pushed open the door, a wave of heat washed over your face. The air was heavy with the smell of burnt paper.

Tess stood at your desk. His face was red, his eyes glowing with an unholy fervor. In his hand he held the charred remains of something small, something familiar.

Your breath caught in your throat. There used to be a framed photograph on your desk, a snapshot of you and your best friend grinning and goofing off on a ski trip last winter. Now all that remained was a blackened husk.

He didn't flinch. He didn't apologize. He simply looked at you, his expression a mixture of adoration and possessiveness.

Tess- That obstacle was gone now.