Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Anne. I don’t know where you think you’re going so fast. Your next class isn’t until 3:30, and you usually show up a couple minutes late to it anyways — three minutes and 20 seconds late on average, to be exact. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I follow you around everywhere, or as you put it to Susan last Thursday in that Facebook message you sent her, you think that I’m stalking you. I thought that was harsh, but then yesterday a policeman served me a restraining order that ordered me to leave the bushes in front of your house. What gives? I thought we had an understanding. I hope you don’t seriously think that I spend my every waking moment doing nothing better than thinking about you and the way you would look dressed up in a dominatrix outfit. No, I’ve gotten over that. Rest assured that the leather skirt you keep on the far-right side of your closest is more than enough for my fantasies these days. Come on. I’m not some weird sicko.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most perfect guy in the world. I apologize again for breaking into your house when you were there. I had just assumed you had gone to have breakfast with Tracy like you do almost every Wednesday. Trust me, I was just as surprised to see you in your bathroom as you were to see me. Scaring people is not my style. I don’t like face-to-face contact. That’s just another reason you shouldn’t fear me, call the cops on me or call me a stalker.

Personally I prefer the term "observer." Stalking is just so politically incorrect. It has too many negative connotations, and it brings up so many memories. It makes me think of this girl named Lauren. She used to call me a stalker, too. Lauren was a lot like you, but with fewer pairs of shoes. I guess I just have a certain type of girl that I love to “observe.” Annie and I had a connection — one that did not involve the police. Because Annie was so nice to me, I returned the favor by letting her pets live. Not that I am threatening to kill your pets. It’s just that accidents happen, especially to people like yourself that can’t appreciate some good, wholesome human interaction.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some observing to get back to. By the way, my car is in the shop right now, so if I could just ride in the backseat of yours for a couple of days, that would be great.