Stalker

         I wait in my car and watch the house. I know that house so well; I can close my eyes and still be able to visualize every little detail, from the numbers falling off of the mailbox to the slightly crooked welcome mat and every stain on it.
         The door opens, and Ted emerges from inside. I recognize his clothing, but, then again, I always do; I know every article of clothing he has ever purchased or been given. Today his pants are plain khakis, and his shirt is a plain dark blue one. Somehow, he was able to get the grape juice stain out of its place on the fabric right below the left knee.
         Ted locks the door and then twirls his keys around his fingers. He must be in a happy mood today. He gets into his light blue Toyota Camry and backs carefully out of the driveway. After he has driven to the end of the street, I, too, start my car and start to drive. He takes back routes that I have become as familiar with as he is.
         Dressed as he is and happy as he is and me knowing him as I do, I know he can only be going to Radio Shack. Ted has been watching a certain employee there, and he is set on asking her out. It’s amazing how he always has something to do at Radio Shack every Saturday at nearly the exact same time. Today maybe he’ll get the employee’s phone number or set a date for coffee this evening. Or maybe he’ll sit outside and debate on whether or not to go in, wondering if she’s noticed how he’s there every Saturday.
         He parks his car and gets out, only hesitating slightly. I wait for him to go inside before going inside myself. Ted is leaning on the counter, talking to the employee. As I walk in, she laughs and places her hand on his arm. I wander over to the battery section.
         “Can I help you?” an employee asks.
         “No,” I say simply without looking at them. I am too busy watching Ted as the employee takes out a pen and writes on his hand, her phone number, no doubt.
         I leave the store, to wait once more in my car.
         Walking across the parking lot, I suddenly feel as if there are eyes on my back. I look behind me but can’t see anyone nearby. However, in looking behind, I forget to look ahead. I trip and fall, scraping my knees, hands, and face across the gravely ground. I simply lay there for a second, trying to ignore the stinging pain.
         Suddenly, I hear something above me and look up to see a man standing there watching me.
         “Who are you?” I ask, still lying on the ground. An insane giggle escapes his lips, and he speaks in a high-pitched voice.
         “I’m stalking you . . .”