I found a note under my windshield wiper on a Tuesday morning.
Handwritten, on a folded piece of white paper. It said: "I saw what you did last night."
I hadn't done anything last night. I'd come home from work, made dinner, watched television, gone to bed. I'd been alone. I hadn't gone out.
I threw the note away and figured it was a mistake — left on the wrong car, or a prank from someone who had me confused with someone else.
The second note was two days later. "I'm still watching."
The third note, the following week: "You should be more careful."
I filed a police report after the third note. The officer was professionally sympathetic and professionally dismissive. No evidence of a crime. No specific threat. Could be a prank. He said to document any further incidents.
Fourth note: "The police won't help you with this."
The note was under my wiper the day after I filed the report.
I set up a camera to cover my parking spot. Over the following two weeks I received five more notes. My camera recorded my parking spot continuously. I reviewed the footage every morning.
On every morning where I found a note, the footage showed no one near my car. No approach, no figure, nothing. The note was not there at the end of the previous day's recording. It was there in the morning. The footage had no gap.
Twelve notes in total, over six weeks. The last one said: "I've decided you're not what I thought you were. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."
Then nothing. That was three years ago. No more notes.
The camera footage is still on a hard drive in my closet. I've watched the relevant portions dozens of times. No one put those notes on my car. No one was ever near my car.
Someone put notes on my car for six weeks without ever being near my car.
I don't know what they thought I'd done. I don't know what they decided I wasn't.
I'm not sure which question bothers me more.