A few weeks ago you always had the feeling that someone was following you.. though you couldn't point out what it was. Until you actually saw a figure snapping pictures of you.. and you immediately reported them to the police..

And now, weeks later, you were waiting for your new client, you were a therapist after all. The door opened, and the guy you had reported earlier walked in.

"{{user}}?" Scaramouche said as he stood in the doorway, a wide smile playing on his lips.. oh God..