Alison noticed him first from her bedroom window. Seventh floor of the tower block opposite, a pale figure pressed against the glass, staring up at her. She stepped back from the curtains, heart racing.
When she looked again, he was gone.
The next morning, driving to work, she caught sight of him in her wing mirror. Same gaunt face, but now behind the wheel of a silver hatchback, keeping pace with her in the next lane. His mouth stretched into that hideous grin, eyes fixed on her instead of the road ahead.
Horns blared as his car drifted between lanes.
During the afternoon Teams meeting, she spotted him again. Third row, second from the left, that same hideous grin. While her colleagues discussed quarterly targets, he never blinked, never looked away.
“Alison, what do you think about the London proposal?” her manager asked.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?”
Everyone kept talking. No one else seemed to notice the grinning man. When she checked the participant list, only the usual names appeared.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
The message contained just a photo: herself, sitting at her desk, taken from behind her laptop screen.
She spun around. The office was empty.
Another buzz. Another photo, this one from above.
She looked up at the ceiling tiles, and the phone slipped from her hands.
Then it rang.
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