You find yourself circling the quiet streets. Aimless. You turn left and right and then right again as if walking through a maze in a children’s magazine, unsure of your final destination.
You can feel him following you. You’d voiced your disinterest, but he didn’t seem fazed. Relentless. You quicken your step and hear him do the same. Try to steady your breathing while your mind enacts hundreds of scenarios. Run through a red light and make several quick turns. You’re still sure he’s behind you. Keep walking.
Turn around, ready to face…
No one’s there. You’re alone.
This flash fiction piece is in response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.
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