Record 6 – Something Followed Me

The Midtown sidewalk felt colder than the hallway I left behind. The air was dry, thin, carrying a faint electric hum that buzzed against my ears. Paper cups rolled across the empty street like little ghosts with nowhere to go. Everything looked frozen, like the whole city was stuck between breaths, waiting for someone to press “play” again. I walked slowly, paws steady now, my mind sharper than my fear. The surrounding silence wasn’t empty anymore. It felt crowded with things I couldn’t see.

Then I heard it. Tap-tap. Soft. Light. Too light for a human. Too clean and even to be random noise. I stopped. My whiskers stretched forward. My fur lifted on its own. I turned quickly. Nothing behind me. Nothing across the street. Nothing on the fire escape. The silence settled back like a blanket, pretending it never moved. I took another step. Tap-tap. Closer this time. My body crouched low without asking my permission, ready to hiss or run, but my new thoughts rose faster than my instincts. Not danger. Not hunger. Something else. Something watching.

I straightened. My tail flicked once. I whispered, “Hello?” The word came out rough but real, floating into the cold air. For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Then I saw it – a shadow shifting behind a blue mailbox, just a small, quick slide of darkness, enough to say “I’m here” without saying anything at all. It didn’t rush toward me. It didn’t run away. Not only that, but it simply waited.

Something is there, following me. Watching. Not ready to step out. Not yet.