My heart dropped when i saw it.

It wasn’t necessarily the post-it note stuck to the middle of the wall. In all honesty, it was pretty sweet.

“My beautiful muse, until next time,” was scribbled across it, hearts scattered along the edges. There was no signature, no clue as to who wrote it. It was what surrounded it that made my heart drop into my stomach. Hundreds of pinned polaroids littered the wall around the post-it. Hundreds of polaroids of me living my life. At the store. In the park. Watering my plants. In the shower. Sleeping. Each one had a date, the oldest to my left and the most recent to my right. I didn’t even bother to check how long this had been going on, if I was too scared or just didn’t care, nothing could get me to breathe again. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

My body finally gave out on me as i sank down and let my head hang between my knees. I knew I should call the police, but the idea of doing that freaked me out, and made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. If I did, what if this ends up being real, not just a nightmare I’ll wake up from sooner or later?

I shot up. The hair on my neck wouldn’t just stand up because I was scared. The only way that would happen would be if someone, or some_thing_, was behind me. Legs heavy as lead, the room spinning around me, I made my way to the far right of the wall. With shaky fingers, I gingerly picked up the most recent photograph. It was me, squatting on the floor before the photograph-littered wall, head tucked between my knees. Todays date was scribbled across the bottom. But there was something else written, something that hadn’t been written on any other polaroid: 8:00PM. I checked the time on my watch.

8:02.

(my first prompt yay, ts poopoo caca)