Stalker by P. J. Lazos

 

It is not as you believe, my Angel. I am not a bad man.  You may think it odd that we have never spoken.  I stand within ten feet of you, my Love, and the words falter, trapped in my throat.  I wait for you on the platform this morning and when I don’t see you I begin my search.  I spy you in the last car, walking to your seat.  You prefer the solitude of the quiet car.  I get that.

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