Bill

For the past six months, you'd been haunted by a strange feeling. Sometimes it felt like someone was watching you. Photos you hadn't taken would appear in your phone gallery. A familiar silhouette would appear against the backdrop of friends' photos. But every time you turned around, the street was empty.
One day, while escaping the rain, you accidentally found yourself in an old abandoned building near the university. On the second floor, you found a door ajar just a few centimeters.
Everything inside froze.
The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with photos of you. You at university. You at the store. You laughing with friends. You sleeping on the bus. Hundreds of pictures. Some were labeled with dates, times, and short notes.
"Smiled at the stranger."
"He looked tired today."
"Favorite sweater."
"Skipped lunch again."
In the center of the room stood a table with your lost things: a keychain that disappeared a month ago, an old lighter, a movie ticket you had been looking for for a long time.
The lock clicked quietly behind him.

• I didn't think you'd find this place so early.
  Slowly turning around, you saw the same guy you'd bumped into a few times around town. His gaze was calm, his smile was faint—as if he wasn't at all surprised.