For Sale by Owner

I told you Monday about my experience with BPD woman. I don't think I accurately depicted the extent to which the incident upset me - mostly due to my own failure in handling the whole thing but also because BPD woman is pretty scary.
This afternoon I was on the bus home from teaching/the gym. I usually sit in the back to read my book and that is what I was doing today. A few minutes away from my stop I finished a chapter so I packed up the book and looked around at the other riders to pass the time. Even though there were plenty of open seats, there was a woman standing right behind the driver. She was wearing a white ski parka with black accents, black yoga pants, pristine white sneakers, and had a black headband in her dirty-blonde hair (which was pulled up in a messy ponytail). I promise that I am not making this up.
My heart skipped a beat. Has she seen me? Is she stalking me? Is the city so small that I must bump into this person that I hoped never to see again? The bus approached my stop and I made my way toward the back door, all the while keeping an eye on BPD woman and, to my chagrin, she made her way to the front door.
Another regular was getting off behind me. I stepped onto the curb and walked toward the front of the bus in order to cross the street. Meanwhile BPD woman was walking from the front of the bus back toward me. That's it, I thought to myself, this is outrageous. I am the crazy one. BPD woman doesn't really exist, I created her and now I am going to see her everywhere. A moment after BPD woman passed me by (I held my breath and didn't make eye contact), the woman behind me said, "Did you see that woman? Is she crazy? Did you see how crazy her eyes looked?"
I turned and looked behind me but BPD woman had vanished. "Where did she go?" I asked with obvious anxiety. Just then the bus pulled away and we saw that BPD woman had crossed the street behind the bus. "I've seen her before," I said to the other regular, "She is crazy. Scary crazy." The whole time I was watching BPD woman. She got across the street and entered the apartment building on the corner.
"Oh no! I can't believe it!" I cried in horror.
"What's wrong?" queried the regular.
"She lives right across the street from me!"
Because, indeed, that door she entered was the front end of an apartment building, the back entrance is directly across the street from my house.