The letter...

It seemed like any other end of work as I pulled into my driveway. I was feeling a little hungry as I unlocked my door, so I wandered into the kitchen to grab a cookie bar and some milk. It was then that I saw the note.

It would have been an ordinary piece of paper, neatly folded and sitting on my kitchen table. However, the outside had "To Matt" written on it. There was nothing ordinary about someone coming into my house in the middle of the day and leaving me a note on my kitchen table.

Who could have left the note there? I wouldn't have addressed the note to myself, and I knew it wasn't there when I left for work in the morning. Who would want to slip a note into my house like this? My girlfriend could sometimes be creative, but she didn't have any keys to my house. Rick sometimes had a warped enough sense of humor that I could picture him trying something like this, but he isn't a locksmith.

Nervously, I picked up the note and gingerly unfolded it. The room seemed to grow colder as I read the words:

"I'm watching you. I see you sleeping in my room every night. I know what you are up to. And I am always watching. - Vicky Carlisle."

Vicky Carlisle. I knew that name. I often saw letters addressed to her, from people writing here who did not know she was dead. What was going on?

Susan lazily passed me the note. Sometimes I wished she'd just tell me.