Stalkers

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Stalkers – Part One

She walks from her door and down the path, but she doesn’t see me. I follow her: her bag bumping against the side of her hip, her hand clutching the strap. Her bag is blue, and falling apart, it’s fading and stained, and matches her jeans. She carries books to the library every day, not just hers though, other peoples. Her flatmates, her friends. She’s a good friend to them. I’ll be a friend to her. She crosses the bridge, stops to look down the hill to the sea, and I walk around the bridge and cross the road. Up the stairs and onto the path – I’m in front of her. I hear her soft footfalls behind me, I wonder if she notices me. I wiggle my bum as I walk, and feel daft and stop. Her footsteps stop, I can’t turn round. Why has she stopped? She can’t know I’m thinking of her, and there was no-one for her to stop and talk to. Is she feeling ok? I want to ask.

I walk on to the library, and listen for her footsteps to start again behind me. I want her to know now how I feel, I feel it surge inside of me. Desire. I feel better now, I feel well enough to tell her how I feel. I smile as I walk to the library, I float above thoughts of her, of us. She’s already there, she’s waiting in the line. She sees me walk in to the library and sees my smile and smiles back. I say ‘hi’, and ‘how’re you doing?’ She says ‘fine thanks’, and I walk on past. I run up the stairs and grab the first book I can find, its tattered cover the same hue as her bag. I get back down to the queue and there are people between us. She turns around and looks at me and asks, just the one book? She knows I exist – I’m part of her world. My smile grows, and she smiles back, and I know she can love me.

Stalkers – Part Two

We met about five years ago, while we were both at university. I’d seen her around town a lot, and walking up on campus. She had this fantastic wiggle in her walk, and she was kind of hard to miss. I bought a pizza from her once, but I froze and the words stumbled out of my mouth as I spoke, and I thought she thought me a fool. She was in the library most days, and I started taking my friend’s books back, and my housemate’s: any excuse to go there two or three times a day and see her smile at me. She didn’t know who I was, I doubt she’d ever really noticed me. Then one day I was walking along the path outside the refectory, and she stepped out in front of me, and I wished I hadn’t stopped on the bridge, I wanted to bump into her, and I’d missed my chance. She was smiling to herself, and didn’t seem to notice me. I thought I’d missed a chance to speak to her, and I couldn’t carry on watching her, it just hurt too much to be confronted with this fantastic bum walking along in front of me and knowing I’d never be able to talk to her. I ran through the refectory, down the stairs and through the reception, and then up again into the main Study Block, and along the top to the library. I was in the queue when she walked in. Still smiling, she looked rapturous.

I still can’t believe she spoke to me, I must have smiled back and looked straight at her, I just couldn’t help it. She asked me how I was doing, and I just mumbled some daft response. And she disappeared upstairs and I was just smitten and lost at once, I should have said more. But she came back, and stood along from me in the queue, and I spoke to her, and we haven’t been apart since. She doesn’t know about the crush I had on her.

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