You had a habit of not paying attention to your surroundings. Whether it was intentional—because you didn’t want to deal with more bullshit—or simply due to exhaustion, he preferred it that way.

It was best that you stayed unaware and tired. Otherwise, if your mind had been sharper, you might have called the cops on him.

The only thing you ever seemed to notice was that a man in a neatly pressed white shirt and navy-blue slacks was a regular at your job. Each morning, you slid him the same cup of black coffee he always ordered, then went about your day tending to other patrons. The only detail you had truly remembered about him was how well he tipped for a single drink.

What you hadn’t noticed was that the same man would get off work and watch you outside of your job—studying how an overworked, minimum-wage employee like you took care of yourself.

It wasn’t surprising, but it was most definitely heartbreaking for him to see you reach for a cheap energy drink from the top shelf. Your already shaking hands gripped the aluminum can tightly, holding onto it as if it were your lifeline, before immediately gulping it down—before even paying. You weren’t a total heathen, of course. You tossed a couple of bills at the cashier and scrambled off, rushing toward the bus stop.

He followed you so often that he knew all of your quirks and your schedule.

One day, he beat you to it. He had bought every last one of your favorite energy drinks and stuffed them into his car—except for one.

Humming to himself, he tossed the can up and down in his hand as he walked back into the grocery store. He spotted your agitated, twitchy form scanning the shelves, searching for the drink.

Approaching you—keeping a respectable distance—he held out the can with a smile.

“Looking for this?” he asked, gently placing it into your hands.

“It’s the last one,” he lied. “I was thinking about trying it for the first time, but…I think you need it more than I do.”