Stalking: An Unrequited Love Story or Peeping at the Enemy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Voyuerism. Broken hearted. A glimpse of unreturned love.

Submitted: September 30, 2008

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Submitted: September 30, 2008



I sit on a craggy rock at the end of a driveway and stare directly into Steve's TV room. I scouted out the location, one of three, to spy on Steve. In another spot I crouch behind the manicured bushes of a large Victorian home and observe the dining room of Steve's first floor apartment. My most ingenious lookout, however, is behind an unused garage of a neighbor's house on a plot diagonal and slightly uphill from Steve's place. From this prime perch I peer directly into Steve's kitchen and pantry. On most of my vigils I scurry between all three perspectives.

On this mild February evening, I discern Steve's elbows in the semi-darkness of his TV room. I cross the street to move in for a closer inspection. I can see his arms are bent and lowered. He grabs something below him. Then I notice a swish of black, the back of her head lowering onto Steve's yellow couch. Her arms fling out and her legs spring up like a cowboy shot on Main Street in a Western movie. It's a motion that says, "I'm blown away!" I realize, Oh my God, Steve was kissing her! I watch as she falls on the couch, the couchI suggested be placed along the windowed wall when he moved into the apartment, the couch I waited all day to be delivered.

I sit alone on a rock at the end of a driveway and watch my old boyfriend fall in love with someone else.

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