Every campus has one. The mystery student you see more than your roommates, more than your professors and more than your own reflection in the bathroom mirror when you’re stress-washing your face at 2 a.m. You don’t know his name. You don’t know his major. And yet, somehow, he is always there.
At first, you chalk it up to coincidence. Everyone has overlapping schedules, right? Maybe you just happen to run into him occasionally. You lived in the same dorm freshman year, it would make sense! But, then, it keeps happening. Over, and over, for what feels like forever.
Starting off — Monday morning, you’re half-asleep on the bus, he’s sitting across from you, scrolling on his phone.
Monday afternoon, you’re leaving the lecture, he’s walking in.
Tuesday night, you’re at College Library pretending to study, he’s pacing the floor like he’s on some serious mission.
Wednesday? You didn’t leave home, yet somehow, you saw him outside your window.
At this point, you’re not just noticing him, you’re tracking him. Your friends, all part of this shared mystery, start alerting each other whenever they see him.
“Saw him at the Memorial Union again … He’s in the coffee shop.”
It becomes a game of spotting the campus celebrity, except no one knows what the prize is, except maybe the ability to finally figure out what exactly is going on here.
You start to notice patterns. You’ve seen him in every possible context — sprinting down State Street, standing mysteriously outside Starbucks, in the exact same aisle as you at Walgreens (twice!). One time, you spotted him at a party on a Saturday night, drink in hand, deep in conversation with someone you swear you’ve never seen before. Then, the next morning, he was somehow at the gym at 7 a.m., completely fine. No signs of exhaustion, no hint of regret. Did he even go to sleep?
You think, okay, maybe it’s just a coincidence that he’s always in your orbit. So, you do what anyone would do in this situation, you stalk his Linkedln and any social media account you can find. It’s a desperate attempt to make sense of your overwhelming curiosity.
Boom. There he is. Engineering major. That’s weird, because why is he always on southeast campus? Shouldn’t he be locked in some lab deep in Engineering Hall, taking exam after exam? And yet, you’ve never seen him step foot past University Ave. He’s always in the places you never expect — by Library Mall, in the library, casually walking through the Memorial Union. He’s everywhere, and yet, not a single person knows him well enough to tell you where he’s actually from.
The rabbit hole only goes deeper. You’re at dinner with a friend, casually bringing up your ongoing existential crisis about this guy, when they pause.
“Wait … I think that’s my cousin’s home friend.”
Now, you’re absolutely floored. You’re in too deep. What does this even mean? The fact that your friend knows this guy but can’t provide more than a vague, “he’s always been around” explanation only raises more questions. You’ve been living in a world where this dude exists, but no one seems to actually know him. The more you hear, the less you understand.
And that’s when you realize — he could be anyone. Maybe he’s some kind of social experiment. Maybe he’s a graduate student who’s somehow managed to become the unofficial face of the campus. Or maybe he’s just a guy who enjoys creeping around the places you hang out in, completely unaware of the ripple effect he’s caused on your psyche. Or, does he think you’re the one who’s following him, and you’re his campus character.
But here’s the thing — no matter where you go, you’ll keep seeing him. You’ll see him at the gym, on the bus, in the back of lecture halls, and, yes, standing by the window at that coffee shop you swear you’ve never seen anyone else sit at. You may never fully understand why he’s here, what he’s doing, or how he’s infiltrated your life without ever actually interacting with you. But one thing is certain — you will never stop seeing him.