I know you, I know what you’re doing. I can feel you following me down the streets and up and down the rails on the train. I think I’ve seen you once or twice, both of you, and I will know the next time I have the luck to look upon your faces. Why do you track me? Why the eyes, always watching, always boring into the back of my head. You want my money, you can have it, I’m a poor college student, my bank account doesn’t even hit 5 figures. What is it you want then? Are you watching, waiting for a slip, a mistake which you’ll never let me forget, manipulating the courts to have me jailed? Why do that when you could just finish it now?
Or is it that you are as powerless as any other man, reduced to simply waiting because you’re too weak to do something yourself? Or are you waiting for the opportune moment, when something will seem like an accident, something which could happen to anyone, a little shove down the stairs maybe, or automatic doors whose sensors just seemed to fail? Maybe you’re looking over my shoulder this very second, reading the text that’ll disarm you, for what good is all your stealth if everyone knows how predictable you are. So be it then, they’ll all know, ha! We’ll all know, and then what good are you?
I know you…both, and I may be terrified, but there’s some things you’re just not going to take.