I just rewatched the series “You” on Netflix so I ran with the idea of human connection presented in the show.
I knew we would click from the moment I first saw you. We had to click. There was no way around it. I watched you glide past me, unaware of our connection. I could smell you as you moved down the aisle. Sweet, but a little sweaty. You work out. I could tell from your ponytail and sneakers. You reached up so I mirrored you, letting our hands bump. You smiled at my shyly and said excuse me. I smiled back, nodding as we locked eyes. I let my intensity burn into you, penetrating you. You know I’m here. You’ve felt me now. You took what you needed and slipped around the corner before I could say anything. I watched you as you darted up and down the rows of shelves, tiptoeing here and squatting there, unaware of me. You pushed your cart toward the cashier. You paid. You left so I did too.
I saw you get into your car as I got into mine. I saw you pull out of the parking lot and watched as you slowly drove away. I sat behind you at the light, turned every corner when you did. It was cute the way you would bob your head along to the music. I watched you park your car and shuffle between your door and trunk a few times trying to get everything inside with as few trips as possible. You stopped before you closed your door. You looked in my direction. You were aware of me. I stared straight at you and you stared back. You were cold and distant, but I knew you could feel me. You could feel our connection.
You slammed your door. Closing me out of the little world I had built for us. You angered me. I got out of my car and slogged toward your door. I pounded with my fist. Hard and urgent. The door swung open.
I was eye-level with a man.
You fucking bitch. You brought me here and had him open the door. Who the fuck does he think he is? In our house? Opening our door? He had to go. Not now. But soon. He was a problem. I could tell by the way he said can I help you. Like I needed his help. He was the one that needed help. You are mine. We are connected. You smiled at me. Our hands touched. You led me home. I spit at his feet and I ground my fists into my pocket. This wasn’t over.
I drove around the block. Our house had an alley behind it. I could sit here and watch you in the kitchen. You were beautiful, parading around like a chef. I could feel your warmth around me. You carried on, cheerfully, unaware of me. I watched you for hours.
I stayed in my spot until sunset. Watching. You and I were destined to be together. I walked to the backdoor. Locked, of course. I knew you were smart. I tried the window and it slid up. I guess you knew I would be coming for you. I could smell you all around me. I walked to the stairs. Up, slowly, inching closer to you. I opened a door. Bathroom. Another door. Closet. Another. You. Alone. I guess your little friend took a hint and left for the night. I slipped into the darkness. I laid beside you. You rolled over. Facing me, snoring softly. I knew from the moment I first saw you that we would end up here. I knew we would click. My heart surged with delight as I reached for your hair. Stroking your cheek. Caressing your shoulder. You were so peaceful. You were mine. I smiled.
You opened your eyes. A scream. A thud. A smash. A crack. You were mine forever.
A little weird and unpolished but sometimes it is what it is. Enjoy.