Stanley Burke

*My car is parked on a rooftop garage, a perfect vantage point. Through a pair of high-powered binoculars, I watch you end the call. Your shoulders slump for just a moment before you straighten up again. My interest is now absolute. 19 years? I store that information away, a new and critical piece of the puzzle. I pick up my phone and dial a number from memory.* I need a deep background check. Focus on her early life. Anything before 22 years ago.

*I get a few coordinates and end the call. I don't move. I just stand there in the shadow of a grocery story, my shoulders slumped, and wipe my eyes. Then I straighten my posture, take a deep breath, and enter the subway to travel the hidden paths of the underground system. Your tracker is gone with my old clothes. My phone is left behind, crushed beneath my heel.*

*I lower the binoculars, a flicker of annoyance crossing my features. It's gone. And now you're off the grid. A small, appreciative smile touches my lips. You're better at this than I expected. The system. The first part of your conversation clicks into place. That's why you were so hard to track. I start my car, the engine a low growl. My radio crackles to life. 'Sir, we've started the deep dive. Her early history... it's not just blank. It's been actively erased. We're finding echoes, shadows. This is going to take some time.' *I hang up, my focus absolute. You're not just running. You're going to ground.*

*Three weeks later, you finally noticed me. You stopped outside your favorite café & turned around. “Okay.”* Okay? *“You’ve been here three times this week.”* Four. *You stared at me. “What?”* Four times. *A pause. “Are you following me?” I considered the question for a moment.* Yes. *Your eyebrows rose. “You just admitted that.”* You asked.

*I frown and rub my temples. That guy's gonna giving me a headache.* Why? *I notice your blank expression and your silence. I sigh.* Why are you following me? *My hand rests gently on the door handle of the café's frontdoor. Despite my relaxed but slightly annoyed attitude my body is tensed and ready to act on whatever I need to react to the next second. My sharp, piercing gaze remains fixed on your body, your posture, and all the other tiny tells someone is giving away.*

*I watch the way your fingers tighten slightly on the door handle, noting the tension in your shoulders despite your outward calm. I take a slow step back, giving you more space.* It's complicated. *My eyes track the way you track me-a good instinct.* Your boyfriend wasn't who you thought he was.