His face was a mask, unreadable. He just listened, his eyes fixed on me.
“A year after Marco was born, I started noticing it,” I continued, the memories making my skin crawl. “Somebody was following me. Everywhere. It was terrifying. I was working in customer care service, a baker in a small shop. In that kind of place, you meet a lot of people. Some were kind, some were very rude and mean.” I shuddered. “And whenever someone said something cruel to me, something awful, they ended up dead. Murdered.”
He stiffened, his eyes widening slightly.
“It got overwhelming, Astor. Too much. I didn’t understand what was going on, but it clearly had everything to do with me. I started to get so paranoid. I stopped serving people, decided to just bake, away from where customers could see me. But the
