This sense of being watched reminded me of the countless Zoom presentations I’d given to faceless crowds. The one-sidedness of it always made me feel a bit uneasy, a bit vulnerable. The audience’s cameras almost always off, I could see myself on the screen the way they saw me. They could probably construct an accurate narrative about me and my disposition, based on my mannerisms and body language. Yet the only information I had about them was a user name, perhaps a headshot in place of an empty black box.

At the present moment, that same vulnerable feeling spread so rapidly through my chest and limbs that it morphed into unmistakable dread. I knew I was not alone. And, unlike the sensation of standing before anonymous viewers on a virtual stage, I became acutely aware that any information gathered about me by the person watching now posed a physical threat. They might see that my body is not one of a runner. They might wait for me to look left, so they might come at me from the right. They might notice my heels, my expensive bracelets. They might see me as an easy target.

I would do what I could to cast doubt on that assessment. Standing tall, I walked quickly and confidently forward, through the dusty warehouse, my head on a swivel. I could see the metal suitcase in the back corner beside a half-rolled up garage door. My escape. I picked up my pace, just as I heard what sounded like a stack of boxes tumbling over several yards behind me. Kicking off my shoes, I broke into a run toward the suitcase. I could not risk looking back, but knew intuitively that my stalker was now in full pursuit. By the time I was thirty feet from the suitcase, I could hear their footsteps and breath. If they were any sort of athlete, they would surely catch me before I reached the suitcase. A hand truck stood in my pathway. I reached for it, swinging it around and behind me. I heard it roll several feet before toppling over my tracks and, from the sound of it, directly into the shins of my pursuer.

I grabbed the suitcase. It was heavier than I expected, but I threw it under the garage door, following behind.