You just finished your shift at the cozy café and swung your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t take the bus. Walking home felt quieter, easier. Your apartment wasn’t far, maybe seven minutes at most. The night air was crisp, soft under the streetlights.
Then you heard it—heavy footsteps behind you. Not yours. Someone else’s. You glanced back. Shadows. Nothing. You shook your head. Probably someone taking the same route.
The footsteps continued, matching your pace perfectly. That’s when you saw him. Tall. Too tall. So black, so still, he looked like darkness shaped into a man. Your heart skipped. His head tilted slightly, watching. You blinked. Maybe it was just your eyes.
You quickened your pace. So did he. Okay, you murmured, forcing calm. Maybe he’s just really tall. Maybe he can’t talk. Maybe he’s old. You forced your steps casual.
Uh… nice night, you muttered. Nothing. Of course. Just silence, slow breathing, head tilting like acknowledgment. You swallowed hard. Rationalized. He must be harmless. Right?
Your apartment building came into view. Relief, but the heaviness stayed. Every step felt heavy. You pretended to tie your shoelace, glancing at him. He didn’t pause. Didn’t change. Just waited, featureless, black, breathing, watching.
You started walking again, faster. So did he. Always keeping distance. Never overtaking. The street was too quiet. Your bag swung against your side. Your heartbeat thundered.
One block away. Key in hand. Fumbling, trying not to glance back. You told yourself: harmless. Just tall. Just quiet. Weird. Nothing else.
Door unlocked. You swung it open, froze. Nothing. Quiet hallway. You closed it softly. Leaned against it. Just… coincidence, you whispered. Nothing real.
Even inside, sitting on the couch, you imagined him under the streetlight, silent, impossibly tall, breathing, waiting. Patient. Always behind, never near. You told yourself to ignore it. But deep down… tomorrow night, he would be there again.