Alex’s hand trembled over the keyboard. He wanted to close the laptop, but his fingers had a mind of their own. One more press. Just one more.
The final image appeared. It was taken from inside the room, looking at his chair. The chair was empty. His laptop was closed. And behind the chair, leaning over the backrest, was the figure from the hallway—close enough now to see that it had no face, only a smooth, pale oval where features should be. laptop screen shot button
A third press. The screen went black, then displayed a grainy, low-light image. A hallway. His apartment’s hallway. And standing at the far end, barely visible in the shadows, a figure. Tall. Motionless. Facing the camera. Facing him . Alex’s hand trembled over the keyboard
Another flicker. Another photograph. This time, the view was from his window—outside, looking in. He could see himself in the image, hunched over the laptop, face pale. But the photo was dated: Tomorrow, 9:41 PM. Just one more
Alex had been staring at his laptop screen for three hours. The cursor blinked mockingly at the end of an incomplete sentence. He was supposed to be finishing a project proposal, but his brain had turned to static.
On a whim, he leaned forward and pressed it.