Neurosis is a definite fact of human nature. It is how humans have progressed and reformed; leading to discoveries of every little thing we take for granted today. A world without neurosis is a world without art. And although neurosis has led to many great things, everyone knows that “no good deed goes unpunished.” Luckily, most in their lives have not had to deal with these kind of situations. Unbeknownst to her, Christine Nichols would not be one of those people.

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She opened the curtain again. “I don’t know who he is! He’s just standing there looking straight ahead like he is fixed on an idea that he doesn’t want to get distracted by.”

“Look Christine, I’m sure it’s nothing, just one of those crazies that live on another planet. He’s harmless, I can guarantee you.” Kate was never helpful in these sort of situations, she is always looking for a calm alternative solution.

“Nothing? No, I’m pretty sure having a 6 foot 2 man outside your house for over two hours is something!”

“Well that’s what I have to say and if you are not going to even think about it, this phone conversation has no point. If you need anything, you can call. I’ll be there. Bye.” Christine was sure to remember those words forever.

Maybe she’s right, maybe he’s harmless and I’m just being paranoid.

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It was a warm spring day in Manhattan; she was just waking up after another night of restlessness regarding her recent relationship. The breeze sang like that of a beautiful robin, but somehow there was some sort of twang in this birds voice, a deformity that made this day different than any other. With an exhausted sigh, Christine decided against her better will in pressing the snooze button repeatedly.

The last thing she wanted to do at this point was to go to work. Don’t get the wrong impression, she loved her job, but today was not a day that her creative instincts were off the charts. In fact, her boss has been disappointed in her work lately. Apparently, “Life is short, and so is your d***”, was not a good slogan for a vacation to Punta Cana. A true artist takes their emotions and puts them unto their medium; this being exactly what she was doing, she used this as her argument. She always seemed to have this minute smirk pasted on her face, a deceiving showing of emotions, for she was anything but happy at this moment in time.

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Christine made herself a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa. Her mind was trailing off. Her muscles began to relax. Her tea’s aroma filled her with delight.

She woke up an hour and a half later, dazed, with a cup of tea spilled all over her floor. She ran to the kitchen to grab towels to clean up the mess, although there was no point, for the tea’s spatter had been there for hours. After she inspected the area thoroughly for any other liquid that had not been cleaned up, she slowly made her way to the window.

The day had sprouted into dusk and upon looking out the window, she noticed he was leaving. What kind of a person that can stand there for hours and not do anything, but just leave without warning?

ob·ses·sion noun äb-?se-sh?n, ?b-
A persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.


“That’s it! He’s obsessed with me!”

com·pul·sion noun km-plshn
An irresistible impulse to act, regardless of the rationality of the motivation; an act or acts performed in response to such an impulse.



As she spiraled down the never-ending stairs of her apartment, she caught a rush of adrenaline going down her spine in the same movement as she. She stumbled out the door, her hard exterior melting under the pressure of a traditionally dangerous situation. The hard, cold concrete was not something she was looking forward to step onto with her bare feet, but there was no time to go back and retrieve her shoes, only moving forward. She walked hastily from corner to corner, trying to catch up to this man. He was only a shadowed figure, yet to her he was much more.

“Excuse me! Sir!” she screamed. He looked over at Christine as if he didn’t understand. He did not see a normal Christine, but instead a half-crazed, barefoot woman.
“Yes you! I’d appreciate if you would give me a little privacy! You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops! I know your sick plan to stalk me and it’s going to end now!”

“Come again? I’m stalking you?” He said with a cool tone that could make anyone freeze.

“Yes. You were outside my apartment for hours looking in.”

The man laughed with ridiculous tenor. “I was on a phone call. With my ex-girlfriend. She lives in your building. Apartment 2D. But, I was still a little upset about our break-up and I thought it would be cute to try and win her back like Romeo throwing rocks at her window. She didn’t seem to think so, and I ended up fighting on the phone with her for over an hour. Not my idea of a romance novel, or stalking a stranger.”

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.” The pins and needles poking the inside of her cheeks had caused her whole face to turn a red of humiliation. “But I know how you feel, I had a recent break-up too, I just want to relive the same memories, but you know what they say..”

“What?”

“You can’t step in the same river twice.”

His face contemplated the thought, but soon enough it was in one ear and out the other. He looked down at the ground. “Your feet!”

“Yeah.”

His laugh was soft and comfortable. That’s all you have to say?

“Basically. I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself.”

“You’re funny.” another smile spread across his face, “What do you say you go put your shoes on and we go get a bite to eat?”

With a slight, wary tone to her voice she said, “Sure.”