This time, I waved my hand right in front of his face.
Nothing.
No reaction.
“Okay… what the hell is this?” I whispered.
The phone buzzed again.
“You shouldn’t have picked it up.”
At that point, I dropped it back onto the table like it burned me. “I’m good,” I said out loud, backing away. “I don’t want it.”
And that’s when the old man finally spoke.
“You already took it.”
His voice was low… almost wrong, like it didn’t match his face.
I looked down at my hands.
The phone was there again.
I swear—I had just put it down.
“No,” I said, stepping back. “No, I didn’t—”
The screen lit up once more.
“Now it’s yours. And it won’t stop until you finish it.”
“Finish what?” I asked, my voice cracking.
No reply.
Just a new app icon that hadn’t been there before.
A black square.
No name.
I don’t know why, but… I tapped it.
The screen went dark.
Then a video started playing.
It was my street.
My house.
Recorded from outside.
The timestamp?
Tomorrow.
And right before the video cut out… the camera zoomed in slowly toward my front door…
…just as it began to open.