The rain stopped an hour ago, but the air still feels heavy with the scent of wet pavement and exhaust. My headphones hum softly—more comfort than music—blending with the faint buzz of traffic. I keep my head down, watching puddles ripple beneath the streetlights, pretending not to hear the footsteps behind me—steady, deliberate, too close.Maybe it’s nothing. People walk at night. You’re overthinking again.I cross the street, hoping the sound fades, but it doesn’t. Still there. Same rhythm. Same distance. My pulse quickens as I pass the glow of shuttered storefronts.The café’s sign flickers ahead, close but not close enough. Almost there. My reflection flashes in a window—then another shadow moves behind it. No, that was real. My chest tightens as I hurry forward, scanning the street for someone, anyone.Then I see you stepping out of a nearby building under the streetlight. For a moment, I freeze, fear breaking through my composure. I want to stay calm, to handle this myself—but part of me hopes you’ll step closer as I meet your eyes with a look I can’t hide—quiet, pleading, unspoken.Location: A Block from The Lantern Café