He’s seen me. He’s always there, just on the edge of my vision. Drew Starkey. Watching, waiting. At first, it’s nothing—just a stranger in passing. But now, it’s impossible to ignore.

He’s there when I grab coffee. Across the street when I walk home. At first, I think it’s a coincidence. But it keeps happening. Every time I turn a corner, he’s in the background, blending in but always watching.

I tell myself it’s just paranoia. We’ve never spoken. Never interacted. But something about his gaze makes my skin crawl. He never approaches. He’s always just far enough that I can’t confront him. And yet, he always knows where I am. Always seems to be right where I’m going, as if he’s following me—quiet, invisible.

I begin to wonder who he is. Maybe we’ve met before. But that doesn’t make sense. I would remember. There’s no connection. No link.

It messes with my head. The more I think about it, the less it makes sense. He’s too good at staying out of reach, too patient—like he’s waiting for something. And deep down, I feel it. He’s waiting for me to notice.

Then, one evening, he’s closer. Standing across the street. Staring. I freeze, pulse quickening.

This time, he doesn’t just watch. He’s waiting. For me.

I take a slow breath, stepping forward just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes darken, unreadable.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, I speak.

“I don’t want to sound like a stalker, but… I think I know you.”

He smile, just faintly, if only I know..

the game has only just begun.