I couldn’t sleep again. Maybe it was the storm last night, the way the wind had screamed around my apartment like some living thing, or maybe it was just the weight of everything I had learned. Either way, my nerves were raw, and my blood thrummed beneath my skin, restless and aware of things I couldn’t see.
When I got to work, I felt it immediately. Someone—or something—was following me. Not behind me exactly, not that obvious, but a presence, subtle and oppressive, like a shadow that didn’t belong. My pulse spiked, and I forced myself to stay calm. I didn’t want anyone to notice.
I kept my head down, walking briskly, every step measured. Every few minutes, I glanced over my shoulder, catching glimpses of a figure too quick to identify. I tried to focus on my desk, my coworkers, anythin
