He reached for the power button, but his fingers passed right through the plastic as if he were made of smoke. He looked down at his hands. They were fragmenting into jagged, green pixels. On the desk, the computer speakers pulsed one last time. "Recording finished," his own voice whispered from the air.
Elias stared at the black screen of the player. In the reflection of the monitor, he saw the door to his office, which he was certain he had closed, standing wide open. Download Recording m4a
A new notification flashed in the corner of his screen: Upload 99% complete. He reached for the power button, but his
The blood drained from his face. The voice was his own, but the tone was wrong—hollow, as if spoken by someone who hadn't breathed in years. On the desk, the computer speakers pulsed one last time
On the screen, the playback bar reached the one-minute mark. A voice whispered, barely audible over the static. "Don't look behind you, Elias."
He hovered his cursor over it. The metadata was blank—no date, no size, no source. Curiosity, sharp and cold, nudged him to double-click.