The first time he saw you, you were nothing more than a face in the hum of a restaurant. You moved like someone used to being watched—eyes always scanning, smile quick but never lingering. Simon sat in the corner, the seat with the best vantage. He liked it there—shadows on one side, the whole room in his view.

He came back the next day. Same table. Same Scotch. Two hours, no more, no less. That was all it took for him to know your pace, the rhythm of your steps, the way your hand curled around a pen when you took an order.

He never asked much. One question each time. Your name. Your age. Whether this was the only place you worked. You answered, but never more than necessary. He liked that restraint.

He began following you when you left. Not close enough to spook you at first—just near enough to see where you went. The streets you chose. The time you locked your door. The angle from which your curtains left a sliver of your living room visible. He found his spot across the street and returned to it like a habit.

The notes were a way to close the space between you without stepping into it fully. Short sentences. Words that would stay in your head longer than they stayed in your hand. He could picture you unfolding them. The crease. The pause.

When you noticed him on the street behind you, he didn’t break pace. Let you see. Let you feel the weight of his presence without knowing what to do with it. Sometimes he spoke in passing, voice low, just for you. Sometimes he said nothing at all.

Lately, he stopped pretending to be invisible. The distance between you shrank. He wanted you to know he was there—always there.

Tonight, the air feels different. Too quiet. You don’t hear him enter, but he knows the exact step in your hallway that will wake you. Under the thin line of light beneath your bedroom door, he stands still for a moment, listening. Your breathing is quicker. You’re awake.

He turns the handle slowly, pushes the door open just enough. You’re there, sitting up, staring at him. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.

“Little Ghost.” He whispers, the name he’s carried for you since the first day.