I stared at him, “a man started following you?”

I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice or my body. I started shaking, like I was suddenly cold.

“Why did you think it had anything to do with Carla?” I asked.

He sighed and leaned back. The napkin was in his hands again, and he was moving it around and around in his fingers.

“I didn’t at first.” He said. “Carla and I had always just been friends. We never talked about being a couple, never even held hands.”

He looked out the window again. “My second year of college, after I met my wife, I also got a part-time job. She called and said she moved out into an apartment.”

He shifted in his seat, “I finally went home to see her and her apartment. I told her about my wife, and she said she was happy for me, she had a roommate, and she made it seem like he was more than just a roommate.”

He stared at the napkin and kept moving it around in his fingers. “She started calling and texting excessively after that. I had to turn my ringer off because she would call multiple times while I was in class and at work.”

I leaned in closer because he started the next sentence very softly, almost a whisper.

“I told her she had to stop.” He said. “I told her we couldn’t talk anymore, that it was too much.”

He was crying.

“After that is when I first saw this guy, when I was walking to my dorm room after work one night. He was standing on the sidewalk by the door to my room, and he said, ‘peek-a-boo.’”