#Day 937: An Open Letter


No endearment. I shall not greet you like old friends, but I won’t acknowledge you like strangers do. Its futile, this pretence.
I can see you across the street, gawking as I wait for the signal to release me from your stare. I can see you at the table by the window, trying and failing, rather effortlessly, to read your book. I can see that it’s the book I was reading a week ago. I can see you walk past my apartment building, keeping up appearances, asking for routes to some dingy coffee shop, I assume. You never were good at spying or being non-chalant.
I walked home from work today and yes, I did notice the flowers tucked into my letter box, spilling out and gracing the floor with delicate petals. They are beautiful and in full bloom, ready to wither by nightfall. It seems you remember how I liked my flora. The fragrant gift does nothing for me anymore. It does not impress me, you were always one for ridiculous sappy behaviour.
For three months I watch myself wake and dress and put on an expressionless face, and step out with carefully commonplace clothing, for I know that you are watching from a distance. Do you document my whereabouts? Have you been plagued by curiosity, like I have? Our reasons, I’m sure, are as obviously different as they come. You watch me trudge through the hours and I write about your mediocre farce. It does not beguile me these days, your strange movements. I’m faintly aware at various points during the day of eyes on me, of shadows lurking. I’m also purposefully blissfully unaware of the little packages delivered to me every few days. I don’t know what you’re playing at by sending them without a return address or a name. What do you think, I’m going to assume I have a secret admirer?
So thank you for three months of offhand company for wherever I went, but I’m now writing this to tell you that we’re not old friends, not strangers, not anything much, actually. You should probably find someone else to watch and occupy your time because this little game we’ve been playing is getting old now. Time has not caught up with you yet and you’re stuck in a period where I waited for you to just bother, but now I’m tired.
Sincerely not yours,


2 thoughts on “#Day 937: An Open Letter

  1. Never read something better, basically, about a stalker. Jokes apart, it’s a really nice piece. Has deep meaning, but is a relatively light read. Which is nice. Good job!

    Liked by 1 person

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