Being Watched.

Do you ever get the feeling you're being watched? Everyone does at some point. It's hard not to, right?

I've had this feeling since the day I was born. I'm always looking over my shoulder like someone is following me, or watching me, or something.

That feeling got worse today.

I was walking home from work when I saw this man standing behind the back bushing of my building. When I caught him stalking me he didn't move, he just kept watching. I'm not much of a person to call out someone so I just gave him a look and walked away.

As if that wasn't enough, I caught the same guy poking around my building's garden.

So that explains why I am up at three in the morning, watching a man in my yard. I guess I'm the one watching him.

I peered over my windowsill and waited for him to move. He was just standing there, putting something in my flowerbed. Well, it wasn't my flowerbed. It was some old women's in the apartment across from mine. She went out every morning just to water them. I admired her diligence. I know I could never keep up with a yard.

I sighed as my eyelids grew heavy. No, I had to stay awake. I would pry them open if I had to. I had to see what this man was up to.

Should I call the police? I could, he's trespassing, unless he lives in the building. That would explain why he was here. Maybe he wasn't stalking me at all, maybe I'm paranoid. Well, I know that's true.

Yet, I couldn't stop watching him. What was he doing at three in the morning?

I ducked down swiftly as the man looked up. I watched him peer around as if he was just as paranoid as I was. Then he took something out of his pocket, threw it in the garden, turned around, and walked down the back path behind my building.

I held my breath until he was gone. Then I slipped out of bed and threw on my slippers. I walked though my apartment to the front door and out into the carpeted hallway. Everything was eerily quiet. The grubby window near the ceiling sparkled with moonlight. It cast a smoking shadow on the floor. I shivered and carefully climbed down the steps to the back door.

I pushed on the chipped wood of the door as slowly and quietly as I could to keep it from creaking. Despite my attempts, it let out a ear splitting tremble that cut through the midnight. I cringed and closed my eyes, hoping no one heard.

I stepped out into the night. It was so deadly silent that I could almost hear myself blink. I held my breath and tiptoed across the patio and onto the cool grass. I slid passed the yard and peered into the flower garden. There had clearly been some flowers torn up and earth strewn about. Is this what he had been doing? Digging?

I was about to put my hand down to push back some of the flowers when a snap sounded behind me. I whirled around, my heart pounding in my ears. There was no one in sight, just me and the moon. I let out a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing to my flowerbed?"

I almost jumped out of my skin.

Ms. Jackson was storming across the lawn, her white hair in curlers, her eyes wild.

"Ms. Jackson," I said, stepping back from her garden, "You scared me."

"Was that you? Were you the one poking around my garden?" She hissed, her pink nightgown flowing around her like a cape. For a 4 foot tall women, she scared the crap out of me.

"No," I said, taking a few more steps back, "I saw him too. I think he's been following me. I just came down here to see what was going on, just like you Ms. Jackson."

She looked up at me then down at the flowerbed. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

"Damn kids," She muttered, "It's nothing I can't fix."

"You really think that man was a kid, Ms. Jackson?" I said, skeptically.

She didn't appear to have heard me.

Ms. Jackson leaned down slowly, pushing back some of the flowers. She reached her hand into the hole and pulled out a small jewel. She gave it one look then tossed it back. She kicked at it with her foot, frantically trying to cover it up.

"Ms. Jackson?" I asked, eyeing her as she stepped away from the flowerbed, "Are you alright?"

"You said they were following you?" She panted, her eyes darting around madly.

"Yeah," I said, slowly, "I mean, maybe."

"Good then," She sighed, putting her hand on her heart, "You gave me quite a scare."

I paused, frowning in confusion.

"Ms. Jackson," I said, peering into the hole, "Why did you do that? And who's they?"

She pulled me back from the flower bed, "It's best if we just let it be. Lots of people come looking for a thing like that. We'd better just let them have it."

"Ms. Jackson," I repeated, "Is there something you're not telling me."

She laughed, her wrinkles surrounding her eyes and mouth as if she had mauled by a cat.

"There's plenty you don't know. Let's keep in that way. Besides, I'm too old to do things like this."

"You're too old to look in a hole?" I asked, confused, "Ms. Jackson, I just want a look."

She looked at me with tired eyes and muttered, "The damn thing is yours anyway, it's your choice."

I bent down and pushed back the flowers.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." She called back, as she hobbled towards the back door.

Don't say I didn't warn you? What does that mean?

I turned my attention back to the hole. There was a small glinting jewel in the center. I picked it up carefully, like it was a ticking time bomb. However, it looked very ordinary. It was just a small, clear, crystal. Maybe it was a diamond. If so, why would someone leave it here?

I turned it over in my hand, examining every inch. It didn't look like a diamond. When you find a diamond, you just know it's a diamond. There's just something about it. Well, it's human nature to respond to diamonds. It's what bonds us forever to another.

But, this was no diamond.

I could have just tossed it back into the hole, but I didn't. It's not that I wanted the stupid thing, it was just that Ms. Jackson reacted so strangely to it. Maybe it was special.

I put it my pajama pocket and headed back up to my building.

I walked up the carpeted staircase and up to my room, 7A.

I had stupidly left my door open again. One of these days someone is going to break in, and with this mysterious guy following me I should have been extra careful. But, I'm not.

I closed my apartment door behind me and sat down on my living room couch. I wasn't even going to try to fall asleep. I was still a bit nervous about the man that had been wandering around the yard.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the jewel. I switched on the red velvet lamp that sat beside the couch. Now that I could see it clearly, I couldn't exactly call is a jewel anymore. It looked like a piece of glass. It was just a stupid piece of glass, not to mention grimy too.

I tossed it on the coffee table. All of this for a piece of glass? Maybe I had missed what was really in there, if there was anything.

I leaned my head back and peered over at the door. I had left it open again. Wait, no I didn't. I had made sure to close it.

Suddenly my hair stood on end. I glanced behind the couch, half expecting some sort of monster. But, there was nothing there, just a few boxes left from moving.

I stood up and closed the door. I watched it and waited. Sure enough, it slowly opened.

I sighed in frustration. They didn't tell me this place had a faulty door. I stuck a box filled with books in front of it and sat back down onto the couch.

I curled my feet under me so they wouldn't touch the floor. I was still expecting that monster, or mysterious man, to grab me and pull me away.

I rested my head on the arm of the couch and closed my eyes.

At least I had a home of my own. I didn't stay at home like Vicky. I made a promise to myself to leave home at 18. I'm glad I stuck to it.

I pulled the couch blanket over me and buried my head in my pillow.

I coughed. A horrible smell reached my nose like a thousand darts in the air. It smelled as if something had leaked chemicals into my apartment. It almost smelled like paint.

I sat up and looked around.

The walls were yellow. My walls had been white, but now, they were yellow.

I blinked. How did this happen?

I wasn't going to start painting for weeks. I was going to have my sister come and help me, but it looked like the job had already been done.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing an old smock and I was covered in yellow. I stood up and looked around.

Surprisingly, I had done a nice job. The ceiling I had left white, just like I had planned to. I even painted the doors and their frames. I had done some unpacking as well. I was nowhere near being done, but it was a start.

Maybe I have a sleep disorder. Nana used to have a sleep disorder. She would wander around the house blathering about people who were following her and something about a plot to save the world. It was the same every night, until the day she died.

I had inherited most of her belongings. Like the old bureau that sat in my bedroom. It had so many compartments and drawers you could find a new object every day. For instance, yesterday I found a whole ring of keys behind one of the wooden doors. There must have been a hundred keys. What would she do with a hundred keys?

Nana had always been odd. She was a paranoid, always looking behind her. She scared me so much I became paranoid. Now I have the feeling I'm being watched and the worst part is I actually might be.

I walked over to the front window that looked over the back yard. I was almost hoping to see the mysterious man in the baseball cap standing out there just to prove me sane.

But, there was nothing out there except for a few bird trotting about the lawn.

A small ticking filled the silence.

I looked up at the clock that hung on the far wall.

Great, I was late for work.

I jumped over the coffee table and stumbled over to a few boxes that were stacked unevenly behind the couch. I frantically ripped open the one labeled 'Clothes'. I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and my uniform that was an ugly brown then I quickly straitened my nametag that read, "Donna Lewis."

I slipped on some black flats, grabbed my keys, and trotted out the door. I slammed my apartment door behind me and swung down the stairs and out the front door.

I sprinted across the lawn to my purple, dented, Toyota. I threw open the door and climbed inside. I shoved my keys in and turned them like my life depended on it. I backed up and headed down the empty streets.

San Francisco never looked so beautiful. The buildings glinted with the morning sun, and the roads rose above like waves. I nodded at a passing trolly. There was only one thing that I hated about this city and it was the tourists.

I still waved as they passed. Besides, I live off of tourists. No one would come to the "Frisco Diner," if there wasn't a Frisco to go with it.

I pulled in front of the old neon sign that burned bright even in the daytime. I keep telling Mike to turn it off, but that old man believes that neon signs are the key to customers. I can't trust him on that. Most of the time the, "Frisco Diner," is as silent as a ghost.

The Diner loomed above. The Diner itself looked like a reject from the 50s.

I closed my rusted car door behind me as I walked up to the retro doors of the Diner. I pushed them back and walked inside.

There was a small tinkle of a bell as I peered around the diner. The red, plastic seats looked more shiny than usual. The windows were less grimy.

"Hello, Welcome to the Frisco Diner…" Niki said as she doodled on her guest booklet.

She looked up lazily then muttered, "Oh, it's you."

Her short blond hair was twisted around her finger in a knot. She had cherry red lipstick and the same careless look on her face as always. I tell you, she's the one that scares away our business.

"Good morning Niki." I sighed, heading over to the counters.

Niki clacked her gum loudly as she watched me walk over to the sinks.

I was about to start my daily routine of washing the dishes from the nightshift workers, but they were already washed.

"What are you doing?" Niki drawled, clicking her fake fingernails on the top of the counters.

"My job," I said, slowly, "But it looks like someone beat me to it."

"What are talking about?" Niki said, popping her gum.

"I mean, someone did the dishes." I muttered, throwing the smelly sponge back into the sink.

"Donna," Niki sighed, "You came here at 5 in the morning and cleaned everything."

"What?" I said, confused.

"You came in here and cleaned everything. I would know, I've been here since four. You went home about an hour ago." She said simply.

Then she gave me a disgusted look, "Is that paint in your hair?"

I rubbed my face, trying to remember last night.

"Are you, like, okay?" Niki sniffed, clacking her gum.

"No, I'm not." I sighed, sitting on top of counter.

"Talk to me." Niki said, resting her head on her hand.

"I don't know," I muttered, looking up at the stained ceiling, "Last night there was this guy poking around my building's yard. He dug a hole and put a rock in the flowerbed. He's been following me for the past couple days. Then this morning I woke up and my apartment was painted yellow and now this. I don't remember doing any of it!"

"Were you…" Niki paused, blowing a bubble, "Ya know. On drugs?"

"No." I replied, crossing my arms.

"Just saying," Niki shrugged, "I had a friend that did heroine, and when he came to, his dog was in the chimney. He didn't remember it either."

"Did it seem like I was on drugs when I came in?" I asked, looking at her curiously.

"No," Niki said, picking her nails, "You just seemed like a robot. You just had to clean everything. You said, "So I will have time for other things." Whatever that means."

"Other things?" I repeated, "I don't have other things."

"What about that rock?" She said, pointing a long, red, nail at my pocket, "Is that the one you found?"

I looked down and saw one of its clear edges poking out. I reached in and grabbed it.

I turned it over in my hand. I had gotten these shorts from an unopened box. How did it get in there?

I swallowed and threw it on the counter.

"You have it." I said, eyeing the rock nervously.

"Why?" Niki said, picking it up, "What's wrong with it."

"Some weird guy put it in my yard. Maybe it's poisoned." I said nervously.

"Don't be silly." Niki laughed, looking it over, "Looks like a piece of glass."

"Niki," I muttered, "I just moved here and I got these shorts from an unopened box. How did it get in the pocket?"

Niki rolled her eyes, "It might just be another piece of glass. There's millions of pieces of glass out there. The one you found last night can't be the only one."

I sighed, "Whatever, just keep it."

"Fine," Niki smiled, "I'll use it to fix the crack in my car window."

I ran my fingers through my wavy brown hair, "I'm going to head out, just tell Mike about the work I put in last night."

"Alright." Niki said as she went back to drawing on the guest book.

I strolled passed her and pushed through the front doors. As I headed to my purple Toyota I heard a faint tinkle of the bell behind me.

I wrenched open the door and sat down.

I shifted my position uncomfortably as I felt something sharp poking me in the hip. I sat up to peered down at the old seats.

The same piece of rock lay just below me.