Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 Am - Online Notepad <2025-2027>

In the mirror-world of the kitchen, a figure was standing directly behind him. It wasn't Sarah. It was a tall, blurred shape with fingers like frayed rope, reaching out toward his reflected neck.

Elias didn't turn around. He didn't have to. The chill on the back of his neck told him that the note was no longer online. It was in the room. Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 AM - Online Notepad

He turned back to the kitchen. The microwave was no longer reflecting the room. It was showing a live feed of the notepad. And on that digital screen, a new line appeared: “Turn around. I’m finished typing.” The microwave timer let out a sharp, piercing BEEP . In the mirror-world of the kitchen, a figure

Elias froze. He looked back over his shoulder. The laptop was definitely open, the bright white screen of the notepad illuminating the wall. He looked back at the microwave. Elias didn't turn around

In the reflection, the laptop remained shut. And there was something else.

Elias lunged for the laptop, desperate to delete the note, to close the tab, to break the connection. His fingers hit the keys, but the keyboard felt like cold stone. He looked at the screen. The text was changing in real-time, appearing faster than any human could type.

11:50:03 AM - He sees you now. 11:50:05 AM - You shouldn't have checked the time.