Daily Prompt: You’re sitting at a café when a stranger approaches you. This person asks what your name is, and, for some reason, you reply. The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.” What happens next?
The remnants of my croissant lay scattered about the plate. The knife I used to spread a bit of marmalade between the flaky folds has fallen off the plate in the aftermath of my sudden upward movement. I need air, fresh air. My coffee growing cooler by the minute.
But he was stilling blocking my exit.
“Hello, aren’t you Cassandra Temple?”
His approach had happened so quickly he caught me off guard. How was it possible for him to know me so well to confirm my existence? He had asked for me by name. My real name. The name that I had left behind five years ago when I relocated to Apple Valley Oregon.
When I shook my head and said, “I am sorry. You must have confused me with…”, I never got to finish my sentence, for I had jumped up to leave.
“Cassandra is your real name, and I’ve been looking for you. Please don’t play the game with me. I have been watching you for some time.”
He was wearing a lightweight grey suit, white shirt – open at the neck, right hand extended. Was it extended in greeting or to stop me from leaving the café?
WITSEC promised that this would never happen. And yet it just has.