Why is he looking at me? Staring at me. Undressing me with every sip that he takes. Is he thinking that I’m not noticing?

He’s like a hawk. Flying above me. Ready to scoop me up like a field mouse. He’s swirling around the room. Wings expanded. Mouth open. His fingers are claws. Grinning. Laughing. He’s ready to pounce.

Should I make my run? Leave him behind? He’ll only come after me. Chasing me all around town until I can’t move. That’s what he wants.

On the count of three. One, take a step towards the door. Two, get your pepper spray ready. Three, walk swiftly to the car.

I know his type. We’ve played this game before.