Accident

You never expect to run into those people at the bookstore. The deli. The school. They just so happen to be looking in the same section of the bookstore as you, scanning the same books. Buying the same meats and cheeses. They just so happen to be waiting at the school, 5 yards away from you, but do you notice? If you do, do you shrug it off as coincidence? You don't want to accuse them of stalking, but should you? Maybe they are cute? Interested in you? All these questions running through your head, but do you think of it as nothing or put everything together. All these details are nothing until they are together. Apart of one masterpiece. We just don't know it yet. Finally, the next time you are looking over a certain author's books, you notice this strange person is there again. Starting to shrug it off, your subconscious part of your brain takes over. You are confronting them when you didn't want to. You find out her name, some background information, and you casually bring up the fact that you have seen her around before. She replies with an obscene remark. "You know, you're right. Why the hell have you been following me?" she asks. You look at her in shock across the table and the two cups of coffee you both ordered prior to the conversation. Coincidentally of course. You gather your books and other belongings and head out. You don't know where, just out. After several weeks of forcing yourself to not leaving the house unless of a disaster strikes, you go back to the bookstore. Coincidentally, there she is again. You ponder if you should strike up another conversation with her, but before you know it the subconscious part of your brain takes control, and there you are. No matter how badly you don't want to be there, you are. Engaging in the hardest conversation of your life. And then it hits you. That this might be some accident of some sort. Days go by. Weeks. Months. Three years have passed. You left the state to a vacation home. No one noticed you were gone...except her. Your phone hasn't rang since you left. BZZZT. The vibration startles you. BZZZT. The phone rides along the table. BZZZT. You hesitate to answer. BZZZT. You figure you should see who it is at least. BZZZT. Unknown. Bz-- "Hello?" It's her. What do you do? How did she get your number? How do you know it's her? Why does she still remember you? Questions left unanswered by the sound of a gunshot....