|CHASING VERONICA|

The soft noise of her heater radiating in the background, the light droplets of freshly poured rain, and the chilly wind slapping against the window rattling the glass. But what woke her up was her dreadful alarm clock. She groaned into her silk pillow, pushing away her untied hair. She shivered as her legs touched the floor while she ran to the bathroom to finish her morning routine. Brushing her teeth while thinking about a hot cup of coffee, her eyes closed still half asleep. In Veronica's life, the city was a backdrop where dreams were woven into everyday moments. As the first light of dawn graced the rooftops, her small apartment began to stir. Veronica, a 22-year-old student, would awaken to the morning's gentle touch. Her days, filled with the hustle and bustle of the morning, were spent going to classes and working at the thrift shop down the alley of her small apartment. The day would end with her heading home, facing the world outside that seemed to slow down as if time itself had taken a pause. Inside the coffee shop, Veronica would find her favorite aroma wafting through the air, a comforting ritual before she started her routine. The little thrift shop 30 minutes away from the college, a cozy corner in the city, would call her in the evening as the sun began to dip below the horizon. As the day in Veronica's life unfolded, she'd head to her classes, the routine lectures, and the exchange of laughter with classmates. Sitting in the coffee shop, she'd catch up with her friends Sarah, Jack, and Alex. Veronica said, "I'm thinking of dropping the semester's last assignment. I just can't handle it with the break we took. The lectures seem so endless, and I'm not even sure if I'm absorbing anything." Sarah chuckled and replied, "Hey, we all have our moments, don't worry about it too much. It's just one assignment, and we can tackle it together if you need to." Veronica smiled, "I know, but I am tired of writing!" she groaned, making Sarah laugh. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the city's nocturnal hues would paint the streets in the night. Veronica's days would end with her heading to the little thrift shop 30 minutes away from her college. The world outside seemed to slow down as if time itself had taken a pause. In the cozy thrift shop, she'd find herself lost in the pages of her favorite book, the words guiding her through the night. She sighs looking up, her few customers looking for their daily dopamine of finding something new on the old musty racks, people glancing in through the large glass doors, some walking with a sandwich, some standing against the wall opposite. Her eyes stared at a man leaning against his bike for a minute too long. His face was covered with his pitch-black helmet, black jacket, gloves and jeans. He stood tall, she could tell his buff frame, although it was hidden beneath his jacket. He had his arms folded looking at the road when his helmet turned and she blinked. It felt as if he saw her, as if he was now, staring back at her. She dropped her gaze embarrassed and when she looked up, he was getting on his bike and leaving. She never found bikers attractive. She found bikes in general dangerous. She hated the sound of burning exhaust, the smoke, the lack of protection. But she had to admit, he looked cool. The rest of the evening went by as ordinary as always. She closed the registers and began closing up the shop when her eyes stopped right across the road. That certain biker standing right there. Arms crossed leaning against his bike. She felt her heart drop but she chucked it off. Fifteen minutes later when she locked the back door of the shop and walked out from the alley to the same road, he was there. Standing in silence. Dread set in, but she continued her walk back home. Her heart almost jump when her phone buzzed out, with her ringtone on high volume as she passed right before his eyes but across the road. "Jesus" She whispered picking up her father's call. "How is my child doing?" "Well you called me so late I almost dropped my phone on the ground!" He gave a confused 'what?' on the call but she changed the topic. The next day, it was almost the same. As it hit five on the clock, she saw him, but this time. His helmet was off, sitting at the very end of the road, in a cafe, not directly facing her. But surely there. She couldn't see his face completely. But, she could see his features, well defined. The hum of the city outside was muffled by the rain, droplets tapping against the window in a rhythm that matched Veronica’s restless thoughts. She lay on her back, staring at the cracks on the ceiling that seemed more pronounced in the dim light of her bedside lamp. Her mind was a whirlpool of questions, spiraling endlessly around one figure—the man outside the coffee shop. Who was he? she wondered, pressing her palms to her eyes as if to erase the image of his gaze. Why does he always show up? Am I imagining this? Veronica let out a sigh, rolling onto her side to glance at her phone. 1:03 AM. The early hours of the morning had crept up on her, but sleep seemed determined to keep its distance. “Maybe it’s nothing,” she muttered aloud, though her voice sounded hollow, even to her. The thought of coincidence—random chance—offered a fleeting sense of comfort. Yet, there was something unsettlingly deliberate about the way his eyes lingered. Not menacing, but too focused to ignore. She thought back to the way he leaned against his bike, casual but calculated, his dark jacket blending into the city’s evening shadows. He wasn’t doing anything overtly strange—just watching. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was always there. In the coffee shop, outside the thrift store, leaning against the lamppost at the corner of her street as she walked home. A chill ran down her spine. What if he wasn’t just some random passerby? What if— No. Stop it, Veronica, she scolded herself, shaking her head. You’re being ridiculous. This is just your imagination running wild. Still, the unease gnawed at her. She thought about telling Sarah, but she could already hear the teasing tone her friend would take. "Maybe he’s just a shy admirer, Veronica! You should smile at him next time." She huffed and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Admirer or not, it’s creepy,” she whispered.