I wasn’t stalking her. Well, not exactly. When she entered the lobby of the building, I have to admit I was immediately smitten. It wasn’t so much that she was beautiful. She was just so wholesome looking. Clean, fresh, almost no makeup.
Unlike most of the women who worked here. They were like painted ladies. Lots of eye makeup, false eyelashes, blush on their cheeks, coiffed hair, dressed to the nines.
No, this one was different. Since I’d never seen her in the building before, I decided to follow her, to see what floor she worked on. That way I’d know where to find her.
She took the escalator down from the lobby to the garage level and headed toward the parking garage, which was strange because she’d just entered the lobby from the outside moments before.
I wanted to catch her before she left the building to introduce myself, so I ran down the escalator and got to her just as she was entering the garage. I touched her shoulder and that’s when she turned around and sprayed mace into my eyes.
“This creep was stalking me,” she told the police officer as he cuffed me.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: Kaique Rocha pexels-photo-125532 escalator.