—Didn’t you miss me? his voice filtered through an invisible vocoder, distorted, shrill, but unmistakable. His face, that twisted grin he wore even in his sleep. He appeared in the doorway like a glitch in reality. Half materialized, half joke.

You laughed nervously. That game again. The “am I real or just a dream you had after too much IDM?”

He was inside the TV. Sitting cross-legged, staring at you from a dead channel.

—I can’t come out. I’m everywhere. You blinked. He was behind you now, eating cereal with white noise. He didn’t chew. He bit into static.

—Why do you do this? you asked with a thread of patience. You’re not sure if you love or hate James’s little joke. He’s not exactly a great actor anyway.

—Because I can. Because I like it when you get scared. You look more alive like that. Like when you listen to "Come to Daddy" alone at home, huh?