that subtle smile; was it subtle? that casual question; was it casual? that fleeting glance; was it fleeting?
had you noticed the earnestness, like that of a spy getting to know your deepest secrets?
what did you make of the stare that seemed like it could etch you deep in the mind?
the dull smell of smoke from that tobacco, once so repulsive, was now a sanctuary.
the ink that sprawled across skin from a tattoo, once so unpleasant, was now an artistic expression.
eyes peeled over the fence; jumping at every move you make; smiling when your name is said; touched when you speak; yet broken when you walk away.
he carved these words in the wood. he jotted them in a notebook. he typed them into a document. he whispered them to himself.
and he kept observing… or to the world, he continued stalking…