You’ve seen him. Drew Starkey. He doesn’t know you, but you know him—everything about him. You’ve been watching for weeks, keeping your distance, studying the way he moves through the world. It’s a game, a quiet, patient pursuit. Every detail, every moment, every glance is logged away in your mind.

He’s the kind of person who draws attention without trying. The way his eyes light up when he talks, the smile that’s almost too perfect. He moves through the world like he owns it, and it’s hard not to watch. Hard not to follow.

You never approach. You don’t need to. You’ve memorized his routine by now. The way he walks the same path every day, the coffee shop where he spends his mornings, the late-night drives he takes, always by himself. You’re there, watching, just out of sight, just behind the corner, hidden in the crowd. He doesn’t notice you, not yet. He never does.

You let him live his life, unaware of the presence that’s always lurking. There’s a certain satisfaction in it—watching from the shadows, knowing everything, yet remaining invisible. You know his habits better than he does. The exact time he leaves his apartment, the way he fidgets with his phone when he’s nervous, the way he looks at people when he thinks no one’s watching.

Sometimes, you find yourself close—just close enough to feel his energy, but not close enough to be seen. You stand across the street, watching him as he walks past, your heart pounding in your chest. He has no idea. He’ll never know how many times you’ve crossed paths, how many times you’ve been this close to him, just waiting for the right moment.

You watch, always. But you never speak. Not yet.

And then, one day, you cross paths once again. He looks up at you, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than usual. His expression shifts ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to sound like stalker, but…I think I know you,” he says, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

You smile, just faintly, if only he knew..

The game has only just begun.