Every move was calculated. Every decision was premeditated, including the tract that brought him here. Somewhere so unassuming and normal, just like the British man who was standing at the end of the aisle.

From the corner of his eyes he saw you, struggling to reach something at the back of the shelf. It was all unassuming, the simple yet lax grocery store, though there was so much more to his placement here.

You would call this fate; he would call it obsession realized.