Recently, you had this dark feeling that you’ve been followed, even seeing flashes of light from the corner of your eye, as if someone were taking pictures. Walking home tonight, it’s the usual, dreadful atmosphere.

Little do you know, your classmate is following you intently, gazing at you with a hint of obsession and yearning. He keeps his camera close, ready to take a picture, or you entirely. The footsteps grow louder, the existential dread growing inside of you with each footfall.