Rereading the note for what felt like the hundredth time, Elora told herself it was probably just a prank. After all, a couple of her schoolmates knew where she worked—and they knew her name. Still, the thought lingered. Was it from a guy? Or a girl?
"Whatever," she muttered, her cheeks warming slightly from the embarrassment of reading too much into a simple note. She rolled her eyes at herself, silently blaming her own imagination—and her failure to pay more attention to her surroundings.
She returned to cleaning the store, deciding she would leave with her colleagues instead of walking home alone this time. Deep down, the note had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. What if she really did have a stalker? She knew nothing good ever came from that.
The next day after lectures, Elora decided to take a break from work and look for other job opportunities—somewhere closer to the public eye. The thought of walking down that quiet street at night no longer sat well with her. She wanted a place where people were always around, where she could see movement, hear voices. Somewhere safer. A change of scenery, she hoped, would help.
When she got home later that evening, the familiar scent of food greeted her. Her mom was in the kitchen, moving slowly as she prepared dinner.
"Hi, Mom," Elora said softly.
"Welcome back, my love," her mother replied, turning to smile at her. "How was school today?"
"It was alright," Elora answered as she washed her hands at the sink. "Do you need help with anything?"
"No, not really," her mom said gently. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes."
The decision didn't come all at once. It settled slowly, like most of the things Elora avoided admitting out loud.
For the rest of the evening, she kept thinking about the shift she felt—not just in her job, but in the environment around it. She didn't feel safe anymore. Not walking home. Not standing behind the counter when the streets outside went quiet. The note might have been nothing, but it had rooted something deep inside her—an uncertainty about what might come next.
By morning, the thought had hardened into resolve.
She rearranged her schedule carefully, moving her lectures back-to-back to fit into the new plan. She emailed her manager before she could second-guess herself. Day shifts only. Afternoons, if possible. She told herself it was temporary—just until things felt normal again.
Normal. She almost laughed at that.
Taking a different route was one of the changes she made to feel safer. A longer path through busier streets, lined with open shops and people who looked too distracted to notice her—which was exactly what she wanted. She wasn't fond of crowded places; they made her feel claustrophobic. But being unnoticed felt better than being alone.
The first day she tried it, her shoulders didn't tense the same way. Her steps felt lighter, more even. The air didn't feel stiff or heavy.
No black sedan waiting at the corner.
No quiet streets holding their breath.
No lingering shadows in the dark.
"Easy peasy," she bragged to herself.
Elora let herself believe it.
Things returned to normal, and for the first time in a while, she felt at ease. The day and afternoon shifts were busier, filled with customers and noise, and it helped her relax. During her break, she slipped in her earbuds—music had always been her escape. With no customers around, she let herself sink into something calm and soothing.
Ten minutes passed.
Then something caught her eye outside.
A black sedan.
Blood rushed through her neck and into her head, leaving her dizzy. Her heart raced. Her palms grew damp as she rubbed them together, trying to steady herself.
"No… it can't be."
She had changed her schedule. She was working earlier than usual. And yet the same car was parked outside the shop again—at the same time she was there.
This wasn't a coincidence anymore.
She was being watched.
Her phone beeped, cutting through the music. She pulled out her earbuds and checked the screen.
A notification.
From an unknown number.
A text.
Her hand trembled slightly as she opened it.
"Different route. Different shift. Same you". Her breath hitched in her throat.
Slowly. Elora lifted her head, her gaze drifting toward the glass window to look outside the shop.
The black sedan was still there. Then without urgency, without hesitation_the headlights turned on. The car pulled away smoothly, disappearing down the streets down the street as if it had never been there at all.
Elora stood frozen behind the counter, her heart racing.
For some reason, the car leaving scared her more then if it had stayed.