Miso was the first one noticed. – Elias
Liana
We took the long route home.
Miso had energy to burn and the air was just too nice to waste. The sidewalks were quiet, lined with sleepy jacaranda trees and scattered purple petals.
I was telling Miso he wasn’t allowed to chase squirrels anymore when I got the feeling.
That strange, subtle tingle at the back of my neck. Like someone was watching.
I turned casually, scanning the street. No one behind us. No one ahead.
Just me, the dog, and a neighborhood I’d walked through a hundred times.
Miso didn’t seem to notice anything.
But still, I tightened my grip on the leash.
At home, I tried to shake it off.
I played fetch with Miso in the yard. Watered the plants. Made tea.
But when Elias came back from work, I didn’t even let him take off his boots before blurting, “Can I ask you something kind of dumb?”
He blinked. “Always.”
“How do you know when you’re being followed?”
That got his attention.
He dropped his bag. “What happened?”
I told him. The walk. The feeling. How nothing really happened, but it just—lingered.
Elias went quiet.
Then said, “It’s probably nothing. Could be just your instincts playing catch-up. But I’ll double-check the cameras.”
“You think I’m overreacting.”
“I think you’ve got better gut sense than most people. Doesn’t mean we panic. Just means we stay sharp.”
I nodded. But I didn’t feel better.
That night, Miso wouldn’t settle.
He kept getting up. Walking to the front window.
Then growling. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just this low, unsettling vibration in his throat.
I followed him once. Pulled back the curtain. Nothing there.
But he didn’t come back to bed for a long time.
Unknown Man
He crouched behind a parked SUV across the street, camera lens pressed to the edge of the window.
The dog had noticed.
He wasn’t surprised.
He saw Elias come out fast. Scanned everything.
But not fast enough to catch me. Not this time.
He muttered to himself, clicking through the shots.
A zoomed image of her feeding the dog. Another of her walking alone. One of her pulling her hoodie tighter, glancing over her shoulder.
“You know he trained the dog, don’t you?” he murmured. “That means you have to be fast. And smart.”
He clicked again. Saved the photo of her kissing Elias on the porch.
Then smiled.
“Just a little longer. Let her feel safe. Then we’ll see what he does when someone takes away the only thing that makes him human.”
Liana
By morning, I’d almost convinced myself I was imagining it.
The window was clear. Miso was finally sleeping.
But the leash by the door felt heavier than usual.
And something in my chest told me:
This wasn’t over. Not yet.
