I was late. Too late.

I didn't want to open the door. No one should be here. I lived alone. Yet... someone was at my door.

The doorbell had been ringing for what felt like hours, or maybe minutes-I didn't know anymore.

I peeked through the peephole.
No one.

When I finally reached the door, a small envelope lay on the mat.No stamp. No return address.
Just...
my address with my name, written neatly on the front:
Alina..
I picked it up, hands trembling. Inside, a single line was perfectly written.

I can see you.

I stared at it.
My mind raced.
Who... who would send this?

No one. Surely no one.

I locked the door. Twice. Then again, even though I knew it made no difference.

I can see you.

I read it again. And again. Each time, the letters seemed sharper, as if they were carved into the page. Maybe it was a prank. Someone in the building. A bored student. A stranger with too much time.
That explanation should have comforted me. But it didn't.
Because the handwriting... it looked almost like mine.
The window rattled, wind slipping through. I shut it quickly, scanning the street below.
Empty. Too empty.

I can see you.

That night, I slept with the lights on.