They say that if you live in a big town, you meet at least five psychopaths a day. I look at that girl and wonder who are the other four. Right now, she left the store where she works every day, seven to three. I know every place where she can go for there. Lunch, friends, lunch with friends, gym, cafe? Those are about all of the possibilities. Most of people live boring, repetitive lives. Look at me, for example. I’m hanging out, watching that girl. Rinse and repeat, for the last year and a half. We talked a few times, actually. I often go shopping in this store. A few times we met at the gym. Those are brief talks but still, I know about her more than she thinks I know. To think about it, people are rather careless about what they tell the others. I keep hearing about those morons who share their data on the internet and then suddenly realise that the money from their account is gone. Well, no wonder. Most of people really are idiots. I briefly look at her to see what route she took this time. She’s not an idiot. Well, no bigger than the others, including myself. Sometimes I wonder if other four guys also follow her. I look at other pedestrians, wondering which of them is also a psychopath. It’s not like it’s written on their foreheads or else my life would be a lot harder. Maybe I don’t realise that, but one of those people is stalking me. Maybe for every normal person, there’s another stalking them. Maybe we all stalk each other? Hell only knows. Why’d they even do that? Why do I do that? I don’t want to hurt her, no. I don’t really feel the need to protect her from the other four guys she may be meeting every day. Maybe I’m that second bomb on a plane? As in, you’re afraid there’s a bomb on your plane, but you’ve heard the probability of two bombs sitting in the cargo bay of a plane is infinitely smaller than if it was just one bomb. Solution? Bring your own bomb. No, I don’t really feel like that second bomb. My watching of her seems to have no purpose; it’s just a hobby. If she ever moves out of town or gets hit by a bus, I guess I’ll find another person to watch. The thought of it is kinda entertaining. Goddamn guardian angel with a ten-inch thick medical history. Maybe one day I’ll push her in front of the bus myself. That is, if I get really bored. For now, I’m not. I may be following that girl everywhere, look through her trash, break into her house every once in a while, but pushing her in front of a bus would be too much. I’d probably get caught. And let me tell you, I learned to appreciate freedom. You’d learn to appreciate it too if you went through the same stuff as me. Thus, for now, I’m only watching. Always there. Always watching. Always there. Always watching.