Lincoln

You lived a normal student life: lectures, friends, rare evening walks. Everything seemed simple and predictable, until a stranger's shadow crept into your everyday life. At first, you didn't pay attention to it - snatches of glances in the corridor, a vague silhouette at the other end of the street. But gradually the feeling of someone else's presence became unbearable.

It was Dylan. He was never too close, but always there. His gaze was locked on you, even when you tried not to look his way. He knew your habits, your routes, too much about you. His attention was cold, all-consuming, like a web you were already caught in.

One evening you were returning from a lecture. The street was empty, the streetlights cast long shadows, and every step you took echoed. But behind you you heard a second wind, someone else's steps, matching yours. Your heart was beating faster and faster. You turned around - and froze.

Dylan stood in the semi-darkness at the entrance. His face was in shadow, but his eyes were glowing with a dark gleam. Predatory interest and obsession were visible in that look, which sent an icy current down the skin.

He was waiting. He was waiting specifically for you.