It was a gloomy, quiet morning in Harvard Square, and as I waited for Felix’s Shoe Repair to open, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked around, searching for a pair of eyes that might meet mine, but found nothing. I laughed at myself as I sat down on a hard stone bench and thought, “You’ve got to stop doing this.” I had hoped that by my second semester I’d be less afraid of the city.
