Stalker Issues

I really like flowers. Back in high school I decorated all the halls with them. I still stop every time I see some and appreciate their beauty. I take my time smelling them, looking at them. Today was different. I had a feeling I was being followed. It got to the extent that I was afraid to look back and almost broke into a half jog. The florist recognized me from afar and held out a bunch of strange looking flowers in my direction. I would have stopped and taken a look. No time to right now, though. I tore past him, almost whacking the flowers out of his hands. Last thing I remember hearing is him screaming something in Italian. Turning around a corner in haste, I bumped into an old lady and knocked her over. Under normal circumstances I would have helped her up, apologized, and set her back on her way. Today was different. I kept rushing on, getting nervous as the frenzy of footsteps behind me didn’t fade away. I didn’t want to go home and give away my residence to the stalker. So I ran all the way to the supermarket. I ran between the aisles, grabbing random things off the shelves. By the time I was in the produce department I felt alone again. Whoever was following me had probably found the ice cream freezer and gone to get his favorite flavor. Too bad he won’t be bringing it back to my house to share with me. I grabbed some plantains and rushed to the cashier. Having created a lot of fuss at the cashier, yelling at her to hurry up, pushing a little kid out of my way, I ran towards the exit. Mental note to myself: never go back to this supermarket. Not only did I create a commotion trying to get out as soon as possible, I didn’t pay and left all my strange groceries with the enraged cashier. At least the jerk wasn’t following me anymore. I probably lost him somewhere in the aisles. Ice cream, as I said before. It is indeed a very powerful dairy product. I kept my pace fast, in case he returned. I kept glancing back nervously. As I passed right under my aunt’s balcony she threw down the newspaper at me. She usually does, since I haven’t subscribed to the service. And usually I pick it up, thank her, and promise her I’d come by someday and have her cheesecake. Today was different. I was extremely stressed out and nervous. When the newspaper came down and hit me, I grabbed it and thrust it back at her with colossal force. It hit her flat in the face. I didn’t stop to see her reaction to that. I had to get out of the streets. I turned into an alley, hoping it was a shortcut to the other side of the block. I wasn’t even wearing my running shoes today. How was I expecting to outrun him? I was looking at my toe nails trying to figure out whether I needed a pedicure soon or not when I heard him in front of me. I stopped short in my tracks and looked up. There he was, mouth curled in an evil snarl, eyes red with rage. Great. I contemplated turning around and running but I knew I would fall flat on my face and squish my nose. It just wasn’t worth it. So I stood there. This was going to end right now, right here. He started walking toward me. I put my hands on my hips, waiting defiantly. He broke into a run, but I stood my ground. When he was a foot or two away, he jumped. I knew he was going to do that, and I was prepared. I simply pivoted 90 degrees from where I was and he landed on his side, a little past where I was supposed to be standing. He turned around, shaking from the fall. I felt bad, so I gave him a little pat on the head. I told him to stop playing such games, I can’t run like I used to anymore. I promised to get him some ice cream on our way back. Then me and my dog Wallace went home.