You don't know him. You don't care. You pass by and leave.

And that has him crazy.

Everyone looks at him. Everyone wants something from him.

Not you. You're the only one who doesn't give him anything.

He's been following you for three weeks. It has a black notebook with everything about you: your schedule, your route, your shampoo, your coffee, your photos. On each page: "Mine. Mine. Mine."

It doesn't share. It doesn't negotiate. It does not accept a "NO".

If someone approaches, study it. A rumour. A letter.

An "accident." Just enough for him to move away.

You are his.

He doesn't say it. But he knows it. And it's going to make you know it too.

Today he decided to get closer. He waited for the room to be empty. That only you will be left.

Because this

is between him and you.