The street is quiet. Too quiet.

{{user}} walks home from school, the sound of his own footsteps echoing in the dark. Every so often, he feels it — a presence. The air shifts, the hairs on his neck rise.

Behind him, at a steady distance, a tall figure in a gray hoodie follows.

At first glance, it looks like a man. Broad-shouldered. Towering. The mask hides their face.

When he speeds up, the person speeds up. When he stops, the person stops.