Monster

Chapter 10 - Routine

Over the next week I followed the same routine I'd mostly followed the past month, with minor variations here and there as a normal human living a normal life would. I was careful to remain vigilant while also appearing clueless to my potential stalker's presence.

For the first three days, I went running just after dawn, as usual. Each morning, I noticed that the same man, also running, passed me at some point. I recalled seeing him do this every morning. I could not be sure if he was the man I'd seen in the car, and he seemed to take no notice of me. On the third day, I nodded to him in greeting and he nodded back – a completely casual, normal interaction.

I always ended my run at a coffee house on the corner at the end of my block, where I ordered a caramel café au lait to sip as I leisurely strolled back to my apartment to cool down. On the fourth day after noticing the silver car with the watcher, I took my run two hours later than normal. When I ended at the coffee house, I saw the man who passed me every morning sitting at a table with a coffee, croissant, and tablet in front of him. I had begun a habit of subtly scanning the room as soon as I entered but had not seen him in there before. I considered the possibility that he could live in the neighborhood.

Then he looked up from his tablet and his eyes met mine. In that instant, I knew; he was indeed the man in the car. I hid my moment of enlightenment behind a friendly smile and head nod, and he nodded in return. I turned to the counter to place my order and left the coffee house, my normally stoic heart beating a nearly frenetic pace.

For the rest of the week, I maintained my jogging schedule but changed up something else each day: the grocer at which I shopped, the time I sat on my balcony with my dinner, the day I went to the Laundromat. Frequently I noticed the same silver car parked across the street. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of someone sitting inside, once with a camera.

Each time I veered from my usual schedule, I would catch a glimpse of the silver car or the man's unremarkable brown hair and average, if athletic, build – always out of the corner of my eye, and always incidentally nearby. I couldn't be entirely certain it was the same person stalking me without confronting him or staring at him overtly, but letting him know that I was on to him was not an option without knowing who he was or why he was following me.

I had a few guesses as to why, and that led to some tentative ideas as to whom. Francesca's death had unfortunately thrust me back into the (admittedly small) limelight. There would be questions, again. There would be those out for her money and/or research, again. But no matter the reason for the appearance of this possible huntsman, it was clear that my time in Geneva would be cut short.

The royalties and dividends that now belonged to me were split and automatically transferred to my different accounts in various European cities, thus as planned, moving was easy. And so I dyed my hair, put in my colored contacts, and again packed my bags and readied my papers.

Henry was returning to Munich.

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(Word count: 589)