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By the time evening rolled around, I'd convinced myself it was all in my head.

I was making this into something bigger than it was.

I was safe.

The city was full of strangers.

People passed through my shop every day.

He was no different.

I started closing up, pulling down the shutters and locking the front door.

The street outside was starting to empty, the busy traffic of the day replaced by the quiet hum of nighttime.

I felt calmer, more in control, as if leaving the shop would finally let me leave the strange encounter behind.

Then I saw him.

He was standing across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, watching me.

The calmness I'd built up vanished in an instant, replaced by the sharp edge of fear.

I froze, my hand still on the key in the lock, my breath catching in my throat.

What was he doing here?

Why was he waiting?

I wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, that he had just happened to be in the neighborhood again.

But deep down, I knew better.

He was here for me.

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