I'm convinced Charles is following me.
It was weird but across the street, moving at the same pace as me, he walked. I kept my hands tucked in my pockets, patiently waiting for the others to hop out, yell “gotcha” or something, but it never happened. Just me and Charles, walking about a street apart.
When it was time to turn left, toward the house, he darted across the street and followed behind me, drinking his coffee, probably only a few feet behind me now.
It was . . . awkward.
And it’s not like I could turn around and snap at him. Tell him to go away.
He literally lives across the street from me.
We’re neighbors.
I finally gave in to my urges and glanced back once only for our eyes to meet.
Snapping my eyes forward, I picked up the pace, tryin
