A short story about how life can be monotonous at times.

He knew he was being followed. He had been walking for the past three blocks and he felt it. That sensation of someone looking at him. He checked over his shoulder at least three times to see if he could catch the culprit, but it seemed like the culprit was always a second ahead of him. He didn't care, though. It was a long day at the office, and he was just about ready to binge a television series he didn't care about.

"Fridays are the best days," he said trying to convince himself.

It was a heavy and cold night as he turned around the corner onto his street. He regretted moving to the city, but he needed to for "work" purposes. It confused him; he worked with programs that could easily be messaged online. Needless to say, it wasn't really his favorite thing to do.

*Snap*

He stopped. He was tense. A cold shiver went up his spine. He knew it was the end. No, wait. That's stupid. It was probably an animal or something.

"I'm just overreacting," he said under his breath.

He kept going at his relatively somber pace. Just ahead someone was approaching him. It relieved him to see another person, so he relaxed a little bit. The individual's khaki trench coat swayed in the gentle wind. The 1940s-styled detective hat covered the individuals face. All he could see was the amber bead of a cigarette as the individual took a drag. He wasn't a threat. He was just another guy trying to get home.

The two passed each other, and he held his breath he hated the smell of cigarettes. He walked for a couple of minutes until he noticed a black cat watching him from a neighbor's window. Its harlequin eyes seemed to peer into his soul, but he didn't care. It was just a cat. A cat that had nothing better to do on a Friday night than to stare at people walking by. He was over it. He just wanted to be home.

He turned the corner to get on his street as he noticed the moon shining brightly. It looked huge and hypnotizing.

He grinned, and said, "Looks like the man on the moon is smiling down on me."

His picked up the pace. He was tired, and his bed wasn't going to wait for him.

*Snap*

He slowed his gait. His eyebrows furrowed. He looked back to see what it was as he kept moving. There was still nothing.

"Strange", he thought, "that same snap sounded closer".

As he turned his head, he barely dodged the person coming his way.

"My bad man. I wasn't...trying...to"

Khaki trench coat, detectives hat, and a burning ember. He stood there. Looking back at the stranger who walked by without saying a word. He was slightly dumbfounded, but he turned around and picked up the pace. He knew something was wrong, and he just had to get out of there.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the eyes. Like they were mockingly trying to understand him.

"The same black cat?" he thought to himself. "There's no way."

Now, he was worried. He ran. What was happening? His head was down as he booked it up the road. He took a hard left onto his road, and he needed to take a breath. He was panting from the fear and the exhaust. He bent over to catch his breath.

*Snap*

...

*Snap*