On Monday morning, I was running late because I had overslept. I arrived 15 minutes late to work, and I apologised to our manager.

“I can’t find my name tag, Leah,” I said, panicking.

“What do you mean you can’t find your name tag?” Leah asked.

“I mean, I can’t find it anywhere in my bag. I know I put it there when I was getting dressed,” I responded, freaking out.

“Are you sure it’s just the name tag you’re worried about?” Leah asked, sounding chilled.

“Yes, I mean no,” I responded.

“What is wrong? Talk to me,” Leah said.

“I got the email from the writing school I applied to, and I am scared to open it,” I said, holding my phone.

“Let me open it for you,” Leah said.

“No, what if they didn’t approve my application to study their course? You know that will break me. I’ve been waiting in anticipation for their response,” I said.

“If they don’t, then you are going to keep on trying,” Leah said, grabbing my phone from my hand. She then opened the message and read the it silently. I saw disappointment in her eyes, so I turned and walked away to the ladies’ stall. I was never a crying person, so I just got in there, locked the door, leaned against it, and reflected on the hard work I had put into writing that script.

“Come on out. You got in, idiot,” Leah said.

“Leah, you don’t play like that,” I said.

Leah was right. I had gotten in, and I was given a chance to study towards a Language and Literature Degree there. That meant that things were about to change, and I had to ask my boss to reschedule my working hours. I spent my day thinking about the good news I had received, and how excited I was to finally be going back to school to do what I always wanted to do.

“Sorry, we are closed,” I said, not paying attention to the person entering the story while I was busy arranging the tables and chairs.

“I am so sorry,” he responded.

I recognised the voice, and it was the guy from the park again. “Are you stalking me?” I asked.

“No, I am returning your tag. I tried stopping you that night, but you didn’t her me. You dropped it while you were packing your things,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the tag.

“Skylar, right? Why are so mean?” he asked.

“I am not mean. I just don’t like people, that’s all. Do you mind, I have to finish cleaning up,” I said.

“What do you mean you don’t like people, what do you like?” he asked.

“That’s none of your concern,” I responded.

“I know. Can we at least grab a coffee or something when you are done here?” he asked.

“No thank you. I have things to do, and if you don’t mind, I need to finish this and I’ve had a long day,” I responded.

“Yeah sure, you do have a lot of things to do. I wish you could just stop being so mean for once, Sky,” he said, looking deep into my eyes.

I stopped what I was doing and wondered how he knew my name, but then I recalled the name-tag. I then turned around and looked at him. “Look, sir, you are starting to get on my last nerve, and if you don’t disappear right now, I promise you I am going to lose it,” I said. I was starting to shake because of anger.

“Okay … okay … okay, I am sorry,” he said, and then he went out.

I then finished everything and took my bag. I did not even say goodbye.

***

Tell us: Do you think the man will ever be able to convince Sky to talk to him, or if he should just leave her alone?