fiction

Donuts Again

I met a man last Thursday who threatened to break my leg. He has been following me around for a week and so I’m staying inside. I wish he would just break the leg and get it over with at this point.

He’s a doctor and he works in town at a private practice. He has gray hair and a pathetic mustache. He’s tall and he reads the New York Times every day before breakfast. I know this because I eat at the same cafe every day. I used to. I eat a donut for breakfast, because I know the rest of the day is going to be bad. And I’m obsessed with donuts.

I eat at that cafe and now so does he. So now I don’t eat there.

Whenever I go into another room in my apartment, I imagine I’ll see him stalking me there, pretending to be doing something else. When I get donuts delivered, I’m sure he’s going to be the one handing me the bag.

I don’t know how we got off to a bad start. I only saw him once before he threatened to break my leg and started following me everywhere. I saw him at his work. I was walking through inspecting the air condition vents. He was watching me. I thought he looked like a nice guy, even with the mustache.

The next time I saw him, I was at a bar nearby having a beer. He sat down next to me and said he didn’t like me and I said that was quite alright and I didn’t think anything of it. I make a bad first impression, mostly because I have a scar across my face that makes me look mean and I take a lot of ketamine before I leave the house, which makes me seem aloof. He said he didn’t like me again and he said he was going to break my leg. I paid the bill and ordered an Uber. I left the bar, got in the car, and then I started seeing him everywhere.

I thought it might be the drugs, so I laid off for a while. Things got worse, then, so I went back on the drugs. He was always around watching. I can’t say for sure that I’m not hallucinating.

I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay inside until he gets bored and leaves me alone. It doesn’t matter, really, I guess, because I don’t have a lot to do outside anyway, besides work, and I’ve been meaning to get fired and collect unemployment anyway. As long as he doesn’t get in here with me. It’s not so much the fear of a broken leg. It just seems weird for a doctor to act this way. Other people have told me that it’s weird, so I’m not crazy.

Maybe I will have him killed or something. I don’t know who to call but I guess I can look it up. I don’t know how much something like that costs here. I’ll just wait and see what happens. Maybe he’ll get bored.

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