The notification popped up: "Mr. Henderson started following you." Sarah’s fingers, usually quick to dismiss anything unnecessary, lingered on the screen. He was a history teacher, and a good one, but a feeling of intense ownership bloomed in her chest. She scrolled through his profile, taking in the pictures of his hiking trips, the dog he adored, and the casual shots of him laughing. *He's watching,* she thought, a thrill shooting through her. The world, or at least her online persona, suddenly felt like hers to control.
She immediately began curating her feed. No more candid shots, no more off-the-cuff comments. Each post now had a purpose, a calculated elegance. She posted a photo of her latest art project, a stunning oil painting of a landscape, accompanied by a thoughtful quote. A day later, a picture of her helping at the local soup kitchen, captioned with a humble acknowledgement of the less fortunate. The number of likes and comments seemed insignificant; the real reward was knowing *he* saw it.
At school the next day, she found herself constantly checking his reactions to her posts. Every glance in her direction from across the room felt charged, every offhand comment he made felt like a coded message. She felt a kind of possessive satisfaction as she saw him.