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The Stalker: A Narrative Fiction

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You’d seen me before and I wouldn’t tell you where or when or how because it would just defeat the purpose. I knew you, I knew your story, but you’d been so rude as to never ask for mine. Don’t think I’m a stalker because I never intended to hurt you or your family, and I never did, did I? Plus, if you didn’t know I was there then there was no reason for me to stop. We were just so much alike and I wanted you to know that. I guess that’s why I did what I did, and do what I do. You fell asleep. Everyone everywhere was doing everything. Why couldn’t you keep up? Walls were built up between you and the people that loved you. In this reality, you had forgotten and lost the ability to even feel. The work dragged on and the pace dragged you back into an oblivion you didn’t know existed. You woke. The morning was average and one could already see the mysterious, milky light of the night mix with the interrupting brightness of the day. You brushed your teeth, slipped on your shoes, and had Nell fix your tie like any old Dawson Tax cubicle worker would do. “When do you think you’ll be home from the office, Mack?” “About 7:30, I’m working late.” “Aww. Okay, that’s not a problem! I’ll help Maddie with her project,” she said with a smile not wanting to let you know how much it meant to …show more content…

The sun stroking your face ever so gently, you sighed and put the key in the ignition. The road was the only thing you were supposed to see until you arrived at work. Somebody who didn’t know you couldn’t understand quite why you turned off Meade Lane instead of at Atlas Street where you always did. I’m not even sure Nell would understand. But to somebody like me that knew everything, I knew exactly why you turned, and I knew where you were headed. Your pulse started to quicken and your veins flared up. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you were brought back to an old

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