Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows of his apartment, a relentless drumbeat that mirrored the rhythm of his thoughts. He checked the locks on the door, for the tenth time. The flickering hallway light cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the mundane seem sinister. *Atypical. Difficult to diagnose*. He didn't want to think about the prognosis.

He felt the prickling sensation again, the familiar itch at the back of his neck, the feeling of eyes on him. He knew he was being watched. He'd seen them. He'd seen *him*. A fleeting glimpse in the grocery store. A shadowed figure across the street.

He needed to confirm. He opened his laptop, typing furiously. Searching for information, a connection, a way to understand. Anything to prove he wasn't alone. Anything.