That man wasn’t following me, he just happened to have the same routine as me. And the same apartment building.
I was getting agitated.When Lucy tapped my shoulder to ask me how to turn on the bread slicer, I must have jumped a foot up in the air
“Oh, it’s you,” I said, relieved.
She gave me a strange look. “Who did you think it was?” she asked.
“I don’t know, a stalker, maybe?” I said, trying to sound carefree, trying desperately to laugh off the awkwardness. But Lucy left and I was left with a feeling of premonition.
Maybe the man was a stalker. But why me? I’m not particularly interesting. I’m just a 5 foot 3, 23 year old girl with a college degree in culinary arts. And yet, somehow i ended up working at Panera’s with a maybe stalker.
Every second that went by, I got more paranoid. I jumped at the slightest movement, I gave customers too much change. I was a wreck.
Then came my lunch break. I exhaled. I would go to the Chipotle across the street and eat burritos with my friend Isabel…