Every time I found one of those damned yellow sticky notes on my monitor, I knew it would be a bad day. My secret admirer had that effect on me. The notes started out kind of charming. A few polite compliments about my clothing. A note about how kind and gentle my personality was. Little xoxo signatures at the bottom.

Middle school crush style. It was a bit of an ego boost, but I was happily married. My wife Emily and I had a rough stretch a few years back after I had an affair, but we got things back on track. I thought of telling her about the notes, but I didn’t want to worry her. The flirtatious post-its went into the trash and I moved on with my day. I didn’t give the first dozen or so much thought.

Until they began to threaten me.

The first note that left me with an unsettling feeling showed up two months after the first one. Gone were the free-flowing, delicate curves of the handwriting. Heavy grooves gouged into the paper from the heavy block letters etched on the surface.

Why don’t you ever answer me back? You could leave a note for me on your computer. It seems like you don’t care. It’s starting to make me angry.

XOXO

At first, I laughed it off before wadding up the note and tossing it in the trash. The idea of leaving a note for my admirer was ridiculous. They had never even mentioned wanting me to leave a reply before. How the hell was I supposed to know my computer monitor was like their own personal mailbox?

Two days later when I arrived to work, there were two notes attached to my monitor. The first one was the angry message from a few days before. It had been uncrumpled and smoothed out. Underneath sat another note on clean, uncrinkled yellow paper.

You just wad up my messages and throw them in the trash? What the hell is wrong with you? You used to be something special to me, but now I see you’re just like every other guy I’ve met. I was wrong about you. You’re a piece of garbage.

XOXO

I felt a mixture of anger and relief at the note. Whoever this woman was, she didn’t know me well enough to make judgment calls like that about me. At the same time, it seemed like this could be the end of the whole strange ordeal.

That time, I put the notes in my pocket and tossed them into a trashcan in the parking garage on my way home. Whoever was leaving them, they were checking the trash in my office. With any luck, they would move on and get over their fixation.

No such luck.

Only a few days later, there was another sticky note on my monitor. This time it was neon green. Had they written me so many damn notes that their yellow pad had run out?

My throat tightened as I pulled it from the screen and read.

We all have our shortcomings, but I’m willing to forgive you. Please stop throwing away my notes. These little moments mean so much to me and it hurts to know you don’t feel the same. That’s okay, though. Your feelings for me will change with time. If they don’t, I may have to hurt someone.

XOXO

I immediately took the note to the HR office. One of the reps read it, her eyebrows raised and her head held back in surprise. She placed it down on her desk and pulled off her reading glasses.

“How long has this been going on, Paul?” she asked me in a concerned tone.

“I’m not sure exactly,” I said, scratching my head. “They’ve left a dozen notes. Two dozen, maybe. Do we have security cameras on the floor?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No cameras, I’m afraid. Too expensive. Same reason they laid off the security officer in the building. Post-COVID America isn’t exactly thriving.”

She gave me a look of sympathy and told me to tell her if any more notes showed up on my computer. I nodded and told her I would. We both silently acknowledged that this was the first of many conversations on the matter.

Over the next few weeks, I made multiple trips to the HR office to report the notes. They rambled endlessly about how heartless I was, how angry I’d made them, and the violent things they would do to me if I didn’t respond soon.

It was becoming exhausting.

Last week when I arrived to work, there was a hot pink sticky note on my computer monitor. I was at a breaking point. The notes wouldn’t stop, HR didn’t know who was leaving them, and my place of work was doing nothing to put an end to this.

At that moment I would have done anything to get it to end.

The note offered the option.

I get it. You’re not interested. I’ll back off, but only if you’ll meet me tonight. I’ll be on the fifth level of the parking garage near the stairwell exit. 8 PM. Don’t be late.

XOXO

_________________________

It was 7:58 PM when I stepped out of the elevator onto the fifth floor of the parking garage. My heart was racing and a cold sweat ran down my back. From in front of the elevator, I had a clear view of the stairwell door about two hundred feet away. No one was there, so I made my way in that direction to see if I could find them.

Suddenly a red ember glowed brightly in the shadow cast by the door. Someone was smoking a cigarette in the darkness. The muscles in my body tightened as I willed myself forward.

My admirer was there, standing in the dark.

“Hello?” I called out. A cloud of smoke billowed from the shadow. “It’s Paul. You wanted to meet me?”

A woman stepped out of the shadow and dropped the cigarette to the ground, grinding it with her foot.

She held a gun in her left hand.

It was my wife, Emily.

“Emily?” I questioned. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I left the notes as a test. A few days a month I stop in your office on my way to work and leave notes. The cleaning crew thinks I work there, I guess,” she said, her face streaming with tears. “I thought after… all the trouble with had from the affair, you would tell me if someone was trying to steal you away from me again.”

“You… you left the notes?” I stammered. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t try to meet another woman again,” she said, lifting the gun toward me. “But you did. Here you are. Trying to meet some easy score.”

“Emily! You can’t be serious!” I shouted. “I came here to get this to stop! Why are you doing this?”

“I knew you would…” she said but was cut off by the eruption of police sirens. She looked toward the ramp at the flashing blue and red lights. “You called the police?”

I nodded.

“Of course I did!” I exclaimed. “I thought someone was going to hurt me if I…”

The thunder of a gunshot was all I heard before the world went black.

_________________________

I woke up in a hospital. My entire body ached. There were thick white bandages wrapped around my midsection. A nurse saw that I was conscious and ran to find the doctor.

A police officer was in a chair beside me. After my physician entered the room, they explained that my wife had shot me in the abdomen and fled the scene. A manhunt was underway but they hadn’t located her yet. A protective detail would remain with me at the hospital until I was released.

They never found her.

That was about five years ago. I’ve relocated since then. A new state, new job, new life. It’s been relatively peaceful until recently.

You see, yesterday I headed into the office a bit before the sun came up. When I turned on the light, there it was.

A bright yellow sticky note on the center of my computer monitor.