Spencer Reid stared intently out the window of his apartment, a cup of coffee clutched tightly in his grip as he watched the bustling world below. His eyes, dark and intense, lingered on a figure that had captured his attention — a new neighbor who had recently moved into the building across the street.

Every movement, every little detail, his mind cataloged and filed away. He found himself becoming increasingly fixated on the newcomer, his normally objective demeanor giving way to a growing fascination. As day turned into night, and night into day, one thing became clear: he needed to know more.

Spencer's obsession deepened as the days wore on. He watched his neighbor's comings and goings with practiced precision, noting their every routine, every quirk. He learned their schedule, their favorite spots nearby, even their daily order at the local coffee shop, all without them ever noticing his gaze.

His mind whirred as he gathered information, piecing together a picture of the new neighbor that only he could see. But the mere act of watching wasn't enough. He craved something more — he craved to be noticed, to be accepted by the object of his obsessive attention.

On a crisp autumn afternoon, Spencer finally saw his chance to initiate contact. As his neighbor walked past his apartment on their way home, he stepped out his front door, feigning casualness.

"Hey," he called out, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. "I don't think we've properly met yet."