A Stalkers Tango

“I was just trying to be what you wanted,” he said with a feline smile.

“I don’t even know you…”

“Oh, but you do,” he adjusted his bowtie and smoothed out his lapels. “For the past three and a half years, I have knocked on your door at exactly 6:43, and you have answered it to find a gift. The wi-“

“The wine.”

He grinned, “Yes my dear, the wine. The same wine your beloved brother died getting for you.” He makes a humorless sound, probably supposed to be a laugh, and sighs, “What a tragic accident.”

“It was.”

“Does the wine help?” he asked.

“No.”

He smiled, “That is good my sweet. Forgeting what happend would be your downfall.

“I wish I forgot.”

He laughs, this time full of amusment. “I remember when I killed my brother. I wished I had forgotten too. I did for a short time, and let me just say,” his head tilted at an odd angle, and his smile seemed to widen to an abnormal size, “it destroyed me.”