You walk down the same street you always take after your part-time night shift, a little tired, your mind fixed on a glass of cold water and the bed waiting for you. The street is quiet, yet that same feeling lingers—someone’s watching you. You know that presence too well by now.

You pause for a moment and glance back. There he is, standing at the same spot near the corner leading to your house. The same coat. The same shadowed face you’ve memorized without ever daring to really look at.

You never knew why he waits for you, or what he wants. All you know is that he’s always there.

You’ve seen him at the café where you work, sitting at the far table, staring without ever ordering anything. You’ve caught glimpses of him reflected in shop windows while shopping with your friends. Even that night when you visited your old friend, you took a group photo and later noticed his shadow in the background—like the world only exists for him when you’re in it.

Tonight, as you pass by him, he doesn’t move. He just lifts his phone, as always, and takes a picture. Your heart tightens, but you keep walking, steady and silent, trying to convince yourself that someday this will stop…