THE WATCHING
PART ONE: THE MORNING
8:34 AM — Moretti Foundation Offices, Manhattan
Aria was reviewing survivor intake forms when the feeling started.
It wasn’t anything obvious. No sound. No movement. Just a prickling at the base of her skull. The kind of sensation that her years of survival had trained her to recognize: someone was watching her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t look up from the forms spread across her desk. Instead, she adjusted her body position slightly, letting her eyes move to the window’s reflection without turning her head.
The street below was normal. Early morning Manhattan traffic. People with coffee cups moving toward subway stations. A delivery truck double parked. A woman in a red coat walking a small dog.
Nothing unusual.
But the feeling didn’t fade. If anythi
