Vid_20221114_232808_016.mp4 Page

I’ve watched "VID_20221114_232808_016.mp4" a hundred times. Every time, I hope the ending changes. Every time, I wonder who—or what—pushed "stop" on the recording.

Standing directly behind him in the digital mirror of the glass is a figure draped in a heavy, sodden wool coat. Its face is obscured by the graininess of the low-light sensor, but the hands are clear—white, bone-thin, and reaching out toward the back of Elias’s neck. VID_20221114_232808_016.mp4

He pans the camera toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the November wind is whipping the skeletal branches of the oaks against the glass. Then, the reflection hits. It isn't Elias’s reflection. I’ve watched "VID_20221114_232808_016