The cursor blinked. That was all. A thin, vertical pulse on a cracked monitor, the only light in a room that smelled of dust and old coffee.
The reply came not as text, but as a slow reversal of the image—the hallway shrinking, the door closing, as if the camera had been backing away. Then a new frame: the inside of my apartment. The chair I was sitting in. From behind. -one bad move by haveyouseenthisgirl-
My first mistake was opening it.
And she was already smiling.
"haveyouseenthisgirl" had been quiet for three weeks. Too quiet. The cursor blinked