But the words followed him. Not literally—not a hallucination, not a voice—but a shape of thought that lodged behind his sternum. You already have the key. He found himself standing in his kitchen, coffee mug halfway to his lips, suddenly uncertain whether he’d actually brewed the coffee or just imagined the motion. He looked down. The mug was warm. Steam rose. But for a long, breathless second, he couldn’t prove he’d made it.

“Prove it.”

Desperate, he dug out the old netbook. The ebook was still open. The single line of text had changed.

“Stupid,” he said, and went to make coffee.

“Prove what? I was there. You were there. We scattered her ashes at the beach, remember? You cried so hard you threw up.”

It was 3:47 AM when Leo first noticed the file.