His stomach gave a hungry growl. He’d been planning to heat up some leftover Thai food. He stood up, his eyes darting toward the kitchenette. The microwave sat there, a box of black glass and brushed steel. From this angle, it was just a shadow.
Elias didn’t remember typing the title. He didn’t remember opening the browser. But there it was, a single line of text pulsing in the center of the screen, typed in a font that felt too sharp for the words it carried. “Don’t look at the reflection in the microwave.” Note 11/19/2022 11:48:51 AM - Online Notepad
