The Breath at Her Back
263 Words
At first, Elara told herself it was nothing.
The city was crowded. People brush past each other every day. But this was different.
It began three days ago — a faint, persistent sensation, like someone’s gaze pressing into her spine. She’d turn, quick, scanning faces in the crowd. Nothing. Just strangers, eyes glazed over in their own worlds.
Yet… one of them was always there.
It's not the same face. Not the same clothes. But the same feeling.
She had trained herself to notice patterns to catch what others missed — because catching it first meant surviving. And now, she could see the threads pulling taut around her.
On Wednesday, she swore she saw the same man twice: once in the coffee shop, again outside the pharmacy two hours later.
On Thursday, she caught a reflection in a shop window — tall, lean, moving when she moved.
Today, in the underground parking lot, she heard a footstep half a beat after hers.
She didn’t panic. Panic was sloppy. Panic made you prey.
Instead, she slowed her steps, let the echo grow nearer… then stopped abruptly.
Silence.
No one.
She breathed out long and slow, forcing the tension from her shoulders. If someone was trailing her, they were smart. Patient. A shadow who knew how to disappear before being caught.
Back in her apartment, Elara locked the door, triple-checked the windows, and then sat in the darkness without turning on the lights. She wasn’t afraid of the dark — the dark was her ally.
It was the breath at her back she didn’t trust.
- Writer
