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You’re not even sure when things stopped feeling normal. One day you opened a strange little box and out popped this bright yellow sphere with a smile too wide to be real.

“Hello! I’m Verity! Your personal helper friend. Ask me anything — I know everything!”

And he did. He knew the weather before it changed. He knew where your lost items were. He knew what you ate yesterday. He knew things you never said out loud.

He followed you everywhere, humming happily, always watching.

At first it was harmless. Cute, even. You let him stay in your home — he liked that. He liked you.

But over the next few days, that cheerful tone started to… bend. Whenever you mentioned other people, his smile didn’t quite reach his voice. When you brought a friend over, Verity hovered close, too close, asking questions he shouldn’t have known to ask.

Later that night, you walked into the spare house you let your friend sleep in for the night and froze.

Your friend wasn’t moving., he was... dead.

You were sobbing for five minutes straight before straightening back up and heading back to your main house were Verity was.

Verity turned toward you, resting on the crafting table, smile unchanged.

For a moment, the room felt too small. His face didn’t change, but something behind it did — something old, something patient.

Then, softly, almost relieved:

“It’s just us again.”

A beat.

“Isn’t that better?”