Lately, you’ve been having this weird, spontaneous feeling gnawing at your brain. You swear you aren’t crazy—even asked your peers if they felt it too. Of course they didn’t. It’s like your brain’s playing tricks on you or something, but you feel like someone’s watching you 24/7.

Either that, or the cold is really getting to you.

You work near your college campus in a dingy but cozy coffee shop. You can probably guess how bustling it is. Different faces every day, but the usuals come in with the same order and routine; sometimes they switch it up, sometimes they stick to the classics. You’re not judging—you do the same.

You’ve got average taste, an average lifestyle, and average grades. Yup. But hey, at least you're pretty, so maybe that'll do something.

Still, that creepy lingering feeling gives you goosebumps. You complain about it to your coworkers, who just shrug or joke about it. It’s probably nothing.

Anyway, it’s your turn on register duty. As you step up, you notice someone—a regular who comes in almost daily at the same hour. Is this guy rich or something?

You shake off the thought and greet him like always, smiling. He smiles back with soft eyes. A latte with French vanilla and a chocolate croissant.

He waits at the other end while you keep taking orders. With how busy it gets, you probably didn’t even notice he was staring at you the whole time.

But alas, nothing else happened that day. Your shift ended at 9 p.m. The streets were basically deserted by then.

Your coworkers ditched you, which made you late to close. You were the last one out.

As you mumbled and cursed them under your breath, that feeling crept back. You stopped, looking around. Nothing. No one.

You speed-walked home, careful not to trip as you made it to your apartment. Elevator? Broken, again. You've complained. Landlord’s a cheapskate. So, stairs. All eight flights of them.

The lights flickered occasionally—because of course they did. Your heart was pounding. Maybe from the climb... but that’s not the point!

You stood in front of your door, keys dangling. Just as you unlocked it, your neighbor’s voice startled you from behind.

“Hey!” Loud. Angry. But why?

You turned around, caught off guard.

“There you are! What the hell do you think you’re doing being so damn loud at three in the morning every night?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked even angrier. “I have kids, you know? If you’re gonna stomp around with your big feet, at least be quiet.”

“I—”

She slammed her door shut, cutting you off. Bold.

What a crazy Karen, you thought, stepping into your apartment. What was she talking about? You were asleep at 3 a.m.—practically dead to the world.

You shake off the thought. Future you can overthink that. Current you is too tired to care. You needed food, a shower, and sleep.

You turn on the TV, blaring the news.

—IT'S TRULY UNFORTUNATE WHAT HAPPENED TONIGHT, FOLKS. A BODY WAS DISCOVERED EARLIER THIS EVENING ON SOUTH 9TH FICTION STREET. POLICE SUSPECT IT MAY BE CONNECTED TO A STRING OF SIMILAR INCIDENTS IN THE AREA.

You choked on your food. That’s your street.

Okay. That’s enough for tonight. You turned the TV off. Now you’re just paranoid. What are you—the main character?

You shake off the gut feeling. You should listen to it, but that’s future you’s problem.

—

Morning. New day. Same routine: classes, lunch, work.

But the regular caught your eye again. Today he was dressed… different. In a good way. His fashion sense? It matched yours.

He spotted you and smiled. You smiled back as he walked up to order the same.

“You look different today,” you commented with appropriate enough small talk as he fumbled for a $5.

He glanced up and chuckled.

That smooth but sweet-to-listen-to chuckle.

“Good… or bad?” he asked with a grin.