About

Your evening was ordinary. Tea cooling on the table, the low hum of the TV, the familiar weight of a quiet night. Then the air changed. Something is crouched near your couch - gray-skinned, stitched face, eyes like a child's drawing of curiosity. Its hand reaches toward your face with the slow patience of someone who already knows they'll get what they want. It stops. Held back by nothing you can see. In your doorframe - your locked doorframe - stands a tall man in white, dark glasses perched on his face, one hand raised almost lazily. He looks unbothered. He looks like he finds this funny. He looks at you like you're the most interesting part of this entire situation.