What Scares You?

Observer

Scopophobia - The excessive fear of being stared at or seen.

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It was only when I saw him the third time that I knew something was dreadfully wrong. That was also the first time he had spoken to me. His voice... I'm sure I'll never forget it.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

I work in a realtor's office, the usual nine to five. At the time, I lived in a small one bedroom that was within walking distance from the office. Living in the city has its perks. It used to take me fifteen minutes to get to and from work, but if I'm in a hurry I could do it in ten. For the most part, my life was completely uneventful. I would wake up, get ready for the day, and on my way to work, I would stop at this locally owned coffee shop. It was an everyday affair, as I cannot survive without a freshly brewed cup. Most of the time, I woke up early enough to sit in the shop and enjoy my drink whilst reading a book.

That particular day, something told me not to stay.

Not literally told me. It's not like I was hearing voices or anything. At least, not yet.

Sorry. Getting ahead of myself again.

Most mornings, the coffee shop is relatively crowded. Not that day, though. Besides the workers, there was just one other person in the shop. At first, it didn't bother me. The usual smell of coffee and sweets was soured somehow, as if someone had burnt the coffee grounds. It was unnerving, but I went up, paid for my order (since most of the workers know my drink of choice, a medium cappuccino topped with cinnamon), and patiently waited near the pick-up counter. All the while, I felt someone watching me.

It is a feeling most people experience at least once in their lifetime, but often more. When the hairs on the nape of your neck begin to prickle ever so slightly. And though you can't see, you just know. It's some sort of sixth sense, I think.

Anyway, I felt him watching me. I knew it was him because he was the only one in the shop. I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye.

He was tall. Pale skin. Dark eyes. Shaggy hair. A wrinkled button-up clinging to his waist. I thought it was odd, as his shirt was so wrinkled, yet he was wearing what looked to be a very expensive watch. He looked almost normal, sitting there alone. It wasn't until a moment later I noticed that he wasn't drinking any coffee or consuming any pastries. The table in front of him was completely empty. He was just sitting there, staring at me.

My heart sank as we made eye contact. I quickly looked away.

Still, I felt his gaze upon me.

When the barista handed me my coffee in a mug, I shook my head and told her I meant to ask for it to-go. Normally, I would have sat there and had my coffee in peace but... something about that man made me want to get out of there as fast as possible. Once I received my coffee, I left immediately.

By the time I settled in my office, working diligently on filing certain things and making phone calls, I had practically forgotten about the man. It seemed silly, then, that I was so freaked out by him. Perhaps he just thought I was attractive. Maybe he had already had his coffee before I had walked in. It all felt distant then.

When my coworker, a polite woman named Mary, came in and asked if I wanted to grab some lunch with her, I was delighted. I needed a break, anyway.

Together, we walked to a small cafe a few blocks from the office. I sat facing the windows. We ordered our drinks, then our food. Everything was completely fine, until suddenly it wasn't. Shortly after our food arrived, I felt it again. That prickling, unnerving wave of dread. I looked up. Out the window.