Page 137 - Anonymous
P. 137
stranger behind me or beside me before,
their eyes trailing me, watching me. I
pretend I don't because the reality of it is
far more frightening. Besides, who
would follow me?
I grab my ingredients, chat a while
with Mrs. Patel at the bakery, and make
my way back home. I pull my beige coat
closer around me to ward off that awful
feeling, but it hangs in the air. I felt it at
the library and all the way home.
