Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 Am - Online Notepad [TESTED]

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

The cursor blinked steadily against the white digital void of the online notepad, a silent witness to the silence of the room. At the top, the timestamp sat like a tombstone: . Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 AM - Online Notepad

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. 11:50:03 AM - He sees you now

Elias laughed, a dry, nervous sound that died quickly in his cramped studio apartment. It was a prank. It had to be. He’d left his laptop open while he went to grab the mail. Maybe his neighbor, Sarah, had slipped in? No, the door had been deadbolted. At the top, the timestamp sat like a tombstone:

Elias grabbed the laptop to slam it shut, but the screen stayed upright, locked by an invisible force. The timestamp on the notepad began to count upward, faster and faster, blurring into a strobe light of digits.

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

He reached the counter. The microwave’s glass surface was polished, acting as a perfect, dark mirror of the room behind him. He could see the edge of his unmade bed, the pile of laundry in the corner, and the back of his own head. Then he noticed the discrepancy. In the reflection, the laptop on his desk was closed.