Through the Pages

Dear Stranger,

Since it worked so well last time, I thought I could leave you another letter. My friends say that my note to you probably blew away, as it was pretty windy the day I left it for you. They could be right, but I don’t think they are. You still haven’t stopped following me. I’m starting to be less annoyed by it. Your constant presence is comforting in its own way. I’m never alone anymore; I always hated to be alone. Thank you for keeping me company. I feel safer knowing someone is there to watch my back if anything ever happens.


This time, I stick the note under the pot of dead flowers sitting outside my door rather than just taping it up. It’s less visible to people, so I am worried that it might not be found by my mystery person, but I’m hoping it convinces my friends that it isn’t just the wind blowing it away. As I begin my walk to work, I am plagued by thoughts of my stalker. What do they look like? Why did they pick me of all people? Why can’t they just come talk to me? 

Throughout the whole day, these thoughts distract me. It isn’t just them though; I wonder if we could ever meet. If we could get along… Maybe one day I wouldn’t be alone anymore. 

If that ever happened it would be all because of them… All because of you. 

You chose me; I don’t know why, but you did. I can’t help but want to meet you; to know you. I can’t help but want to be with you. If you care so much about me, then I can’t help but care even more for you.