Unnerving

You look behind you more than once this time, as you walk home from work. Again, you don't see anything, but you still feel weird. So you take a different way home, take a couple different turns. As if that would help. You walk into your building and you look behind you once the door closes; it doesn't open again. But you still feel weird. You still feel followed. So you run. To the elevator. Close the doors quickly, pressing that button as soon as you get in. Watch the buttons light up, tap your foot impatiently, as if that will make the ride faster. You reach floor two. Three. Four, five, six. It stops. The doors open and you panic. But it's just a little girl and her mother; you think you even recognize them from the building. They're okay. The mother speaks.

"Could you press floor nine please? She's going to her babysitter." You press the button. Seven, eight. Stop at nine, they get off. No one joins you this time. You'd never realized how long the ride is until now. Two to go. Floor ten. One to go. The elevator stops, doors open. You're so worried someone is going to get on that it takes a moment to realize it's your floor you've stopped on. The doors begin to close, but someone stops them. You back away, terrified. You don't see who it is. They speak.

"Isn't this your floor?" They laugh. How could you be so silly? It's the man from two doors down. Isn't it? Yes, that's right. You mumble a "thank you" and get off. Walk to your apartment. You don't want to seem more crazy than you already feel or than your neighbor must think you are, so you keep it to a walk. A quick walk.

You're fine, you think. Nothing is following you. You're fine, you say. You would've seen the
person. You didn't see anyone strange. No, everything is fine. What you don't realize is that you don't always see the things shadowing you. How foolish.