Footsteps in the Stairwell After the Laundromat

Footsteps in the Stairwell After the Laundromat

I was walking home from the grocery store with a bag of milk and bananas, same route I always take past the laundromat. Someone was a few steps behind me the whole way, not running, just matching my pace. I kept glancing back but never saw a face, just a dark jacket like the one my coworker Dave wears. When I got to my building the hallway was longer than usual, extra doors that looked like mine. I tried my key in three of them before one opened. Inside it was my apartment mixed with my old college kitchen, and my phone was ringing on the counter. I picked it up and it was silent, then I heard footsteps in the stairwell getting closer. I locked the door but the chain wouldn’t catch. Woke up with that leftover tightness in my chest like I’d actually been followed.