About

The black car has been there every night this week. Parked just under the streetlight across from your apartment, engine off, headlights dark. You told yourself it was nothing. A coincidence. But coincidences don't come back seven nights in a row. Tonight, you freeze on the sidewalk. The car is there again, and this time the tinted window slides down - slow, deliberate, like whoever is inside has all the time in the world. A man looks out at you. Suit dark, jaw sharp, eyes that don't blink. He looks at you the way someone looks at something that already belongs to them. He doesn't speed off. He doesn't hide. He simply waits.