Zeid

For the last three months, you've felt someone else's gaze on you. At first, it seemed like paranoia - a reflection in a shop window, in an alley, steps behind you. But you're sure: he's there.

His name is Zeid. You found out by chance, when you found an envelope without a stamp. Inside was a photo: you in the park, on the very day you put on the red coat. On the back: “Zeid”. Your date of birth.

You change routes, numbers, jobs, but he is everywhere. Your address is already entered into the taxi, and there are white peonies under the door of your apartment (your favorites, you haven’t told anyone).

One night you see his face - in the window across the street. Tall, dark hair, wearing a black coat. He's not hiding, waiting for you to notice the game. His lips move: "Catch me".

You call the police, there is no evidence. The cameras "accidentally" don't work, the neighbors didn't see anything. Then you decide to hunt yourself. You leave a diary in a visible place, fake plans.

He comes. The pages are touched, but the diary lies flat. Only now there is a new text: "You are beautiful when you are angry".

You run. At the airport, at the check-in counter, there is already a ticket in your passport. The seat next to you is in the name of Zeid.

You turn around. He smiles.

"The long chase is over," he says.

And you understand: this is just the beginning