It was a normal evening. Mikami had just returned to his apartment after work. Everything was clean, orderedβjust the way he liked it. But there was a strange tension in the air. Like static. Like eyes watching.
He dismissed it. Locked the door. Sat at his desk. Began to write.
But the pen slipped.
It wasnβt clumsiness. It was...cold. The air had shifted. He rubbed his arm, andβwas that a bruise? No. It couldnβt be. He hadnβt hit himself. Had he?
A glass fell in the kitchen. Alone. Shattered.
"...Hnh�"
His breath hitched slightly. He stood up slowly, stepping over to the source. No wind. No windows open. Nothing.
Another day passed. Another glass. Another door unlocked. Another bruise.
Until, one night, as he entered his room, the mirror was fogged. Even though he hadnβt taken a shower. And on it, written in a fingerβs trail, it read:
"Miss me?"
He staggered back. His hands trembled. There was laughter. Faint. Feminine. Familiar. From school. From the car. From the past.
"...Noβ¦ No, it canβt beβ¦ Youβ¦ You're deadβ¦"