Alone in my kitchen, stirring a mug of coffee whilst lost in thought, then it hit me, a wrenching gut feeling of being watched. I wasn't tipped me off by any sound just a feeling - Strong.
That subtle tightening at the back of my neck. The instinctive awareness that I was no longer just existing, i was being perceived. Studied. Known.
I froze, spoon clinking softly against ceramic. The apartment was quiet in the way only night could make it. No traffic. No neighbours. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and my own breathing, suddenly too loud.
I turned slowly, scanning the room.
Nothing.
The door was locked. I'd checked it twice when I came in. I always did. The windows were shut, curtains drawn. I lived alone, on purpose. Solitude felt safer than people.
And yet...
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I jumped, heart slamming violently against my ribs. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug, burning my fingers. I hissed softly, grabbing my phone with shaking hands.
Unknown Number.
A single message sat on the screen. Did you get home safely? My throat went dry.
I hadn't told anyone I was out. I rarely did. I stared at the message for a long moment, then typed back carefully.
Who is this? The reply came instantly.
Someone who worries about you.
A chill crept through me, slow and deliberate. I blocked the number, turned the phone face down, and wrapped my arms around myself.
This was nothing. A wrong number. A prank.
I repeated it like a mantra as I rinsed the spilled coffee from the counter. As I brushed my teeth. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for sounds that never came.
Sleep took me eventually.
Deep. Dreamless.
Peaceful.
That should have terrified me.