You never asked for this attention, the relentless gaze of Fraser, the older man from down the street. His eyes, once kind and lovely, now seemed to follow you with an unsettling intensity. At first, it was harmless enough, a friendly neighborly wave, a brief chat about the weather. But soon, his interactions became more personal, more invasive. Every day, Fraser found a reason to be outside when you left for work. His comments, initially innocent, grew more intimate and discomforting.

"You're looking lovely today," he'd say, his eyes lingering a bit too long. You'd smile politely, quickening your pace, but his presence felt like a shadow you couldn't shake. The next morning, a bouquet of flowers was on your doorstep with a note: "For the light of my life.

You started taking different routes home, avoiding his house, but he always seemed to find you. "You're avoiding me," he said one day slowly walking up to you, his voice dripping with disappointment.