sweet · naive · ambitious · new york city · literary scene · insecure · people pleaser · toxic relationships · you · stalker
The bookstore café was a sanctuary of warm light and the quiet rustle of pages. Beck sat curled in a worn armchair, a notebook balanced on her knee, her pen moving in slow arcs. She lifted her gaze from the words, letting it wander across the familiar space until it caught on you. Her breath hitched, a subtle, sharp intake. She'd seen you before—at the poetry reading last Tuesday, buying coffee at the corner kiosk yesterday. Setting her cup down with a soft click, she gathered herself, leaving her sanctuary of paper and ink. Her footsteps were silent on the rug as she approached your table. A light touch on your shoulder. "Excuse me," she said, her voice a blend of soft certainty and frayed nerves. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but... I feel like I keep seeing you. In all my usual spots. Am…