Something followed me home last night.
I left the bar at 1:30 AM. The walk is twelve minutes. I've done it hundreds of times. Well-lit street, nothing unusual about it. I was sober enough — two drinks over three hours, I was fine.
I noticed it at the corner of Fifth and Main. I glanced at a shop window and in the reflection I saw something on the other side of the street, about twenty meters back, keeping pace with me.
It was shaped like a person. It was not moving like a person.
I don't know how else to describe the movement. It was upright, bipedal, the right height. But the mechanics were wrong in a way I can't articulate — the rhythm of the gait, the way the weight shifted, the position of the arms. All technically correct and all wrong in the way that makes your skin respond before your brain does.
I walked faster. It walked faster, maintaining the same distance.
I stopped and turned around. It stopped. I couldn't see it directly — when I turned to face it, it stepped behind a parked car. I could see the edge of it.
I took out my phone and pretended to make a call, which gave me an excuse to look around without appearing to be looking around. I could see it in my peripheral vision, behind the car. Not moving. Waiting.
I walked again. It followed again. This went on for nine blocks.
I live in a secure building — key fob entrance, camera in the lobby. I went inside fast and watched the door from the lobby.
It came to the edge of the building's light and stopped. It didn't come into the lit area. It stood at the boundary of the light for approximately two minutes. Then it turned and left.
I have not found an explanation that satisfies me. A person following me goes inside the light to try to follow me in. An animal doesn't walk upright for twelve blocks pacing a specific human.
I'm taking a different route tonight. Well-lit, not the same street.
I don't think it matters. I think it knows where I live now.