I once knew a man named King. He was a man of routine and mystery. He walked his Retriever Dalia every afternoon in the park and took the same route everyday.
He never spoke to anybody, never looked anyone in the eye. He simply walked through the park, with Dalia on a gold leash beside him.
I knew King because I'm a very observant person. I was particularly interested in him. There was just something about him that always made me gravitate towards him.
I looked at him from afar, studied how he walked, and stood like a gentleman. I guessed he was older than I was. Way older. I could tell by the gray of his hair, and the way that he dressed formally.
I first saw him one afternoon a month ago while I was sitting on a park bench, sketching the landscape of the park and was immediately drawn to his dog. I noticed the retriever first,( I love dogs), and admired how black and shiny the dog's fur was.
My eyes traveled slowly from the dog to the man holding the golden leash, which made me think that he must be a rich man. I thought to myself a dog who looked magnificent as that surely had a very caring master.
I was smitten by him in an instant.
I looked at him, not even minding if he would look my way and catch me looking, (he didn't) and watched him until he vanished at the exit of the park.
I liked him since then, and was very glad to find out that the next afternoon while I secretly waited for him to show up, he was there.
He was there the next afternoon, and the next afternoon after that, until I learned he particularly did this everyday as a routine.
I couldn't bring myself to him. I didn't even know who he was, but I could tell I already had feelings.
Until that one day I brought a small binocular with me, just so I could see him up close.
I was always sitting on a park bench on the hillside of the park, and never moved any closer.
I didn't want to be seen. I wanted to observe him from this far. Two weeks in doing this, I didn't know it started to become an obsession.
I kept coming back at the same time, trying to see anything different, never approaching him. I brought my sketchbook all the time too, but since then I never really drew anything. I just kept it with me so I could pretend I was doing something else.
So this one time that I brought my binocular with me, I came to learn of something more.
His name, and his dog's name.
Dalia, was embossed in gold on the collar of his dog.
King, was embossed on a silver name tag which was clipped to the side pocket of his coat.
I wrote his name and his dog's name on my sketchbook after that. I had a name to think of instead of just his face.
It made me happy. I felt as if I knew him better.

Then one time came that I decided to approach him. I set up a plan.
I bought myself my own dog, it had to be a retriever, and I had to walk it at the exact time I knew he would.
This was in the fourth week already into observing and liking this man.
I had lines rehearsed on my head, knew how to act, and hoped he'd be smitten with me at first glance. The same way I was smitten with him.
So there I was, dressed up looking older with my formal dress and coat, rubbing my dog's neck which was already one year old as the vet told me.
I checked my watch and waited. The park didn't have too many people at this hour, so it would be easy to spot him then.
As the time drew near, I made my way down from the park bench to the center of the park, where an obelisk clock stood.
I waited.
And waited.
I tried to act calmly .

He didn't show.

I went home that night furious. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to meet him so bad. My instincts were telling me I needed to snap out of it, but I couldn't. I worried something happened to him. I worried he might be hurt or worse, dead.
As much as I wanted to go back to the park and look for him, I dosed myself with a sleeping pill to put myself to sleep.

The next afternoon, I was a little hopeless. I thought of how crazy I became for this man named King.
I took my sketchbook while sitting on the usual park bench and noticed all the empty pages.
I used to hate not being able to draw everyday. Now I'm looking at all the wasted pages I could've drawn something but all were wasted just because I wanted to watch a man walk with his dog .

A wind started to flow hard and sent the pages from my sketchbook flying. Then, out of nowhere my dog started to run.

"King, get back here!" Yes, I named my dog King, after him.

I collected the pages from my sketchbook from the ground and chased after him.

I didn't want to lose him too.

Heaven must have been watching me as I have been observing the one man I was so obsessed with, because at the exact moment I thought I lost my dog forever, he was there, the man I grew obsessed with for the past month, the man whose face I drew frome time to time, clutching my dog King's leash, his eyes set on me.
For the very first time, he was looking at me.

I smiled at him.
"Oh my, thank you." I started to say, still out of breath from all the running and chasing . "King, come here." I called.
The dog didn't listen to me and stayed put. That's when I realized, Dalia wasn't with him.

"Your dog's name is King?"
He spoke. His voice wasn't what I expected. It was light and sounded young.

"Um, yeah." I said, praying he wouldn't hear the sound of my now fast heartbeat. He's even more handsome this close .

"Funny, my name's King too." He said .

"Nice to meet you, I'm Clara." I extended my hand for a shake. He took it.
King's hands were warm. I thought his hands fit perfectly in mine. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

"You know, I noticed your dog's untrained." He said.

"I noticed you didn't bring your dog with you." I blurted out, then immediately wished to take it back.

There was silence.

"You know I have a dog?" He asked with quizzical eyes.

I thought fast of an excuse. I could already hear my heart thumping so hard against my chest.

"Who doesn't?" I said flatly.

He looked at me for a second and I thought he didn't believe me, but then he just shrugged. He seemed to take it.

"You must be one of those everyone-has-to-have-a-dog type of person." He said.

"I guess I am." I giggled.

We stood there awkwardly. I had this scene rehearsed in my head. I was feeling giddy but at the same time worried.
We should be conversing more about the weather, or dogs, or the park, whatever by now. But I didn't know how to. I can feel myself sinking away. This conversation can't be over soon. I was about to ask if he had a dog when-

"So I guess I'll see you around, Clara." He said, "King, go." He ordered my dog and King immediately went to me.

I can't accept this. I had it all planned out. The least that could happen is we'd walk together out of the park. What should I do? What should I do?
I needed to say something. But all that came out was-

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

My heart sank. I wanted to crawl into a ball and pull all the hairs from my scalp until I go bald.

He started to walk away.

"Oh, and I do have a dog. She just uh, recently died."

That was my cue. I should act so sad, I should tear up.

"Oh my." My hand was in my heart, clutching. I didn't know I could act this good.

He stepped back towards me, and I took advantage of it.

"I am so sorry. I..." tears actually started falling from my eyes. "Oh, what am I doing? I'm crying. I'm
sorry."

"Are you okay?" He asked, there was a tone in his voice I couldn't quite place.

I nodded, even though I wanted him to hold me, offer me a handkerchief or something.

"It's just, like you said I love dogs so much. I just can't take it when a dog dies." I said .

"Oh." King awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I'm just..."

I'm ruining it. I'm ruining it! He must think I'm such a drama queen. Should I cry even harder?

"This is awkward, but I really should be getting going... I hope you take care of your dog. Train him well."

"I will!" I said enthusiastically.

Uh, oh. He's leaving. He can't leave. I needed to be with him few more minutes. Not just like this.

He already had his back turned when out of nowhere, caused by a desperate instinct, which I knew I would regret but did anyway, I dropped my sketchbook and King's leash, walked after him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and when he turned around,

I kissed him. I kissed him so hard so that he'd know about my feelings. I didn't let him go. I couldn't hear anything else except the best of my heart. I didn't care if someone was trying to pull me away I just continued kissing him. For a moment I thought he understood me.

But what happened next changed my life.

He shot me.

•••

That didn't occur to me at all. I didn't even know he was the type to have a gun with him. Who even carries a gun to the park?
Turns out he's a detective, and I just messed myself up by unknowingly throwing myself to a person who could easily put me in jail for kissing him in public.
As I'm sitting here writing this in the psychiatic hospital the court sent me, I came to realize how seriously I could have gotten hurt. Good thing he only shot me in the leg.

Well after he shot me, because he's a detective, he opened an investigation against me which resulted in my being caged in a private asylum.

He discovered I was a stalker, and that I was stalking him for a month. I don't believe I am a stalker. I just liked looking at him, watching him, and obsessing over him.
The court didn't agree of course.
I was immediately sent to a psych ward after previous reports of my weird and strange behavior surfaced upon the investigation against me.
They said I stalked and harassed eight other guys before.
Those other eight were nothing. Nothing compared to him.
But now King's put me in pain. He put me here, and now I can't see him. He even had my dog sent to the adoption center. The report he filed was painful to read. It said I harassed him in public for two minutes. Said that I had a hand around his neck so he wouldn't let go. Said that I swatted away people who were trying to pull him free from me.

Ridiculous.

I should've just liked someone else.
But who can blame me?


A knock came upon the door suddenly. I closed my diary and expected my nurse, Joan, enter with my daily medicine.

"Hi, Clara."

I turned to the door, surprised it wasn't a woman's voice, but a man's.

"You're not Joan." I said to him. He looked young and shy .

"Yeah, Joan called in sick, I will be taking care of you today."

I couldn't understand what he was saying after that. I just stared at him, and felt my heart flatter once more. I thought my heart was dead after months of pain. Turns out it could still feel.

My seriousness faded into a friendly smile. "I don't mind. What's your name?"

"Dylan." He said.

Dylan. What a good name.
I watched his hands move in the medkit, preparing my medications. He had veiny hands. Is it stupid to wish those hands around my neck?

I change my mind about King. King was a loser, he was never fine. King was nothing. Nothing compared to the man before me.

"Dylan, you say?" I said, eyes locked on his.

He nodded. I am going to like this guy. He is kinder than most nurses who just come and go after they pump me my meds. None of them even smiles.
But Dylan does.

I am sure he'll be worth it.

As he left, I opened my diary and started on a new page, and began to write about my first encounter with him.

I should find a way to make Dylan my permanent nurse while I'm here. Before I escape and bring him with me. I needed to find a way to make him fall for me hard he wouldn't be able to refuse to go out with me.
I know now he's kind, and no man will ever shoot me a second time.
Maybe things won't work out, although I doubt it.
Because I am sure of one thing.

He was more fine than the crazy King.
© Illegna