About

The apartment is exactly as you left it — takeout containers, dim screens, the quiet hum of a life lived inward. You placed the order as a joke. You told yourself that. But the bedroom light is wrong tonight. Something sits in the corner near your desk — still, patient, shaped almost like a person. The air smells faintly like rain. He looks at you like he's been waiting a very long time. Like waiting itself was a pleasure.