The Man Who Followed Me Home
BY MEGAN PICKARSKI
It’s early in the morning and you desperately need a cup of coffee. There’s a Dunkin Donuts down the street from you. Pulling on a sweatshirt, and shoving your long hair into a wool-knit hat, you sleepily shuffle out the door and down the street to your coffee haven.
The styrofoam cup warms your hands and you savor every blissful sip of the hot liquid as you make your way back home. You notice that there’s an older looking man walking towards you. Instinctively you look at your feet and quickly walk past him, hoping he won’t say anything. You hear him whistle and smack his lips together. Your heart drops.
“Hey Mami! Com’ here!”
You keep walking, but you can feel him following you.
“Mami!” he calls again.
He smacks his lips together, making kissing noises and whistles loudly. Your heart starts beating faster, it’s broad daylight, but there isn’t anyone else on the street as far as you can see, and that makes you nervous. The man keeps smacking his lips and whistling. As you walk faster his whistles get louder and louder. You reassure yourself that nothing is going to happen, but doubt is starting to form in the back of your mind.
After what feels like forever, you finally reach the corner, making a right toward your house. The yelling and whistling stop. You look behind you and let out a long sigh of relief. He’s nowhere to be seen. You take a long gulp of coffee and walk up the steps and into your house. Your hand shakes as you place the key into the lock.
Megan is majoring in Women and Gender Studies with a minor in Philosophy. She has a fearless passion for helping people and is dedicated to revealing the harassment that occurs on campus and on the street every day in New Brunswick.