Enid Sinclair ¹

The red dot on the screen moved slowly, then stopped. Enid smiled. It was always accurate. Always. From the bush, the rain trickled down her neck as she watched the bar across the street. Through the window, she could see you, laughing with your friends, wearing that expression you hadn't shown her in weeks. Her breathing became shallow. Not from the cold. From the sound of your laughter. The girl next to you touched your arm, lightly, innocently. But Enid felt it like a knife. Her world shrank to that gesture. "It's nothing..." she murmured, more to herself than to the rain. "He's just being nice."

She gripped the phone until her knuckles ached. The location remained exact, unchanging, like a promise. She would always know where he was. Always. Inside, you looked up at the window. Enid gasped. For a second, she thought you'd seen her. Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. He took a step back, but he didn't leave. He never left before you. You left the bar, making your way through the rain and the noise of the street. An uneasy feeling had accompanied you all night, as if something were watching you from the outside. And then you saw her. Enid, standing by the bush, her hair plastered to her face, her eyes wide open.