Stalkers

Open any door, and there they are. Go to the window, and they're peering through the panes. Turn on a lamp, and I see them waiting. I can't avoid them-- my classes, the chapel, the refectory-- yes, even my bedroom. They're everywhere. Beady little eyes, watching me. Hard bodies, shining in the light, walking toward me on sturdy legs...

Ladybugs. Tiny, orange stalkers. I turned back my covers last night to find one resting on my pillow, like some sort of gift from a warped concierge. This morning I got in the shower, where an uninvited guest leapt from the shower curtain as I closed it, and landed on the shampoo.

Yep. Stalkers. Itty bitty felons, all of them.