I lean back against the tree trunk, allowing my eyes to close briefly. The temperature feels warmer than it should—unseasonable heat prickling my skin despite the October chill that should predominate.
Hot.
Why am I hot?
Everyone else is comfortable in light jackets while I'm overheating.
A sensation prickles along my spine—instinctive awareness that makes prey animals freeze, that triggers fight-or-flight responses without conscious reasoning.
Being watched.
Someone's watching.
My eyes open, scanning the surroundings with tactical assessment born from years of emergency response training. The sensation intensifies, drawing my attention to the treeline approximately fifty yards distant.
There.
Someone standing in shadows.
Familiar silhouette that makes my stomach drop.
Eyes lock onto mine—too distant to distinguish color but familiar in ways that bypass rational analysis, triggering recognition on visceral level.
Gregory.
That's Gregory.
Standing in the treeline.
Watching me.
How did he?—?
Court order restricting travel?—
Unless he violated?—
My heart rate spikes, adrenaline flooding the system with chemical warning. I blink rapidly, attempting to clear vision that suddenly feels unreliable.
Is he really there?
Or am I hallucinating?
Heat plus exhaustion plus stress equals potential false perception.
When my eyes reopen, the figure has vanished—treeline empty, shadows revealing nothing but natural forest landscape.
Gone.
Was he ever actually there?
Or am I losing my mind?
I pout—childish expression of frustration at my own uncertainty, at the inability to distinguish reality from anxiety-induced hallucination.
A sigh escapes, my body leaning back further against the tree trunk while I process what just occurred or didn't occur.
Seasonal cold?
