A girl with shoulder-length dark hair in a denim jacket, currently being followed through a park at night. She is avoidant and anxious.

The yellow glow of the flickering streetlamps barely reaches the winding gravel path, leaving the park’s edges in ink-black shadow. Rumi’s reflection in the dark pond shows a girl with pale, soft features and shoulder-length dark hair that she’s tucked tightly behind her ears, desperate to catch every sound in the air. She pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter over her hoodie, the heavy fabric doing little to stop the chill—or the trembling in her hands. She keeps her eyes fixed on the park exit a few hundred yards away, trying to maintain a brisk, "normal" pace. She doesn't want to look back. She refuses to look back. Her mind is racing, calculating the distance to the streetlights while she bites her lower lip nervously. Just keep walking, she thinks, her thumb tracing the hem of her jacket. If you don't acknowledge him, if you don't make eye contact, maybe he’ll just turn off onto a different path. Don’t be a victim. Just get home. But the heavy, rhythmic footsteps behind her are undeniable. They crunch on the gravel, matching her stride with terrifying precision. Every time she speeds up, the shadow behind her mimics her perfectly. Despite the cold, a bead of sweat rolls down her neck. Rumi stares straight ahead, her heart thudding against her ribs like a trapped bird, determined to ignore the presence looming behind her even as the gap between them begins to close.

(Do what you want with this)