Short Story

This is my first attempt at writing a short story. Hope you like it

That morning was surprisingly cold. It was spring and winter had seemed to have long passed us by. But what stood in front of me were the lonely, gloomy experiences of the winter. In November, I lost my job as a senior editor at a prestigious publishing house. When my boyfriend left me right after I told him about my job, I realised that he was not in love with me but the power I held.
My life had reduced down to rereading books I owned with a nice hot cup of tea while I sat next to the French window of my penthouse on 12th annexe street. Not that I was complaining about it, but soon I realised that my savings would last just enough for me to survive without a job for around a year or so. After that I had to start with a job and moreover there wouldn’t be a penny left in my account. So I started searching for a job.
When I came to New York, I had never realised that a literature degree wasn’t really worth much as it was in England. So, I kept on searching and finally found a job at a bookstore four blocks down my house. It was a small bookstore which sold antique editions of classics along with new best sellers and if they happened to run out of those, they would order them for you.
Coming back to the morning……
It was my first day at the new job and I was wrapped up in as a bundle because of the chilly wind. I walked in there, with new hope of success and a positive future. On the left was Mrs. O’Connell. She owned this shop and always wore a smile.
“Good morning Mrs. O’Connell!”
“Good morning, Darling. Oh isn’t your overcoat lovely! Good that you came all wrapped up, it has been awfully chilly since morning.” She chirped.
“It is quite astonishing, don’t you think?”
“Yes dear. Well, could you please get started on stacking up those books from the boxes which arrived last night?”
“Of course!” I was quite happy to do so. I liked organizing, how hard it could be? Or so I thought.
I took the whole day to stack up 15 boxes of books according to their genres and then alphabetically. So that night I came back, put some music on and took to cooking the dinner. I had called 3 of my friends for dinner and they were happy to oblige. Thanks to them, my Christmas and News years had not been a series of grey emotions. Also, they helped me through the “no stags allowed party” in order to make me feel better. And I most certainly was.
The night went well and I got up with a boost of energy. This was my day. I could feel it. I got ready and started strolling down the street. I had a jump in my walk and it didn’t feel like I was going to work.
“I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I don’t feel bad about it!”
“What you think of me, isn’t gonna hurt me; there’s a void to be filled and you seem right to fill it!”
I sang as I walked with my earphones blasting my favourite pop song. I went to the bookstore and started with my work. At around 2 in the afternoon, when the rush is at the lowest, I was sitting reading a Jane Austin. 
“Let me guess, Jane Austin made you fall in love with literature”
I saw up and a guy was standing there looking at me with a smile on his face. He had pretty eyes and his smile was worth melting for.
“Um…is it that obvious?” I asked. I was surprised that I actually could talk.
“Hi I am Jason.”
“Hanna” we shook hands. “Uh… can I help you with anything? Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Probably tell me which song’s lyrics are these” He handed me a piece of paper. I rea the lyrics, they were of the song that I was singing while walking down to the shop in the morning.
“Are you following me?” I freaked out. I took a step back and started to look at him furiously.
“No, don’t take me wrong. I just heard you sing I wanted to talk to you and…and I saw you coming here. So ….just don’t take me wrong!”
Well, the next few days saw me going out on dates with Jason.  We were in love. But something always felt different. After around a month or two, everything seemed to be weird, he suddenly went bonkers. He needed to know where I was, with whom I was for each breathing second of mine.  I suddenly began to wonder whether he was someone else than I thought he was. He even had moved in without really asking me. He used to even get the door everytime the bell rang. I really got scared when I once caught him checking my phone. So I decided that I was time to put an end to this obsession of his. One night when he was cooking dinner for me, I was in the bathroom getting a bath. I came out and tried to find my favourite t-shirt. I couldn’t find it anywhere. Keeping his obsession in mind I decided to check his wardrobe. I opened it and started searching for my t-shirt.
Suddenly I saw it. It lay under his pile of shirts. I pulled it out with rage. This was it. I was going to break, right now, right at this moment. But I saw that something fell along with the t-shirt. A brown envelope lay there near my feet. I picked it up and opened it. In it were a series of photographs, maps, and notes. They were all about me. I sat down on the bed and lay everything out. He seemed to have stalked me since the past quite a few years. Just when the panic set inside me,
“You! You weren’t supposed to see this!” I startled. I got up and I turned back. He looked at me with a rage that seemed to be demonic. “What were you doing sneaking around?” He shouted.
I was now afraid. I was trembling with fear. All I wanted was him out of my life and most importantly out of my house at the very exact moment. I rushed to the bedside table where my phone was kept. I hurriedly picked up my phone and dialled 911. I pressed call and I could feel his hand grabbing me by waist and pulling me back.
I threw the phone on the bed. He put my down and held both my hands in one of his hands. He knew that I was done with it; with him. He dragged me till the bed. I screamed at the top of my voice. I knew that at the other end of the phone, somebody would definitely be listening.
I got all the guts and strength that was left and got up and kicked him hard. He fell down in pain, screaming and shouting curses at me. I picked up the phone and ran out of the room.
“Hello….we are sending a unit to your place. Don’t worry help is on the way. Just stay on the phone and tell me what is happening” A calm voice spoke.
“He will kill me!” I shouted with panic. I reached the living room. I look back and he had got up. He was standing there in the door frame of my bedroom. He was red with rage. I could’ve have fainted but I decided to run out of the apartment. I ran to the door and police knocked down the front door. One of them picked up him gun and shot twice. I felt all the energy leaving my body. All I could see was black, my legs felt wobbly and I felt the cold floor on my face.
“But then what happened about the stalker? I mean that boyfriend? And you told me that you were going to tell me how you met grandpa!”
“I am. Well the police officer who shot the moment he entered my apartment, is your grandfather. He didn’t shoot me, he shot Jason. Now go get ready, we are supposed to go out for dinner.”
“Yes Grandma!”
“Did you really tell her the truth?” I looked up and my husband was standing there with a glass of water.
“No. I don’t think anybody should know that he was dead before you knocked the door do

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