He turned around slowly. Hanging over his bookshelf, where there had been only white drywall a moment ago, was a floor-to-ceiling drape of shimmering, pink velvet. It looked soft. It looked expensive. And as he watched, a small, silver blade poked through the fabric from the other side, beginning to cut a jagged hole in the air of his apartment.
She didn’t move, but the fabric of her dress did. It seemed to ripple like water, or perhaps like something breathing underneath the threads. Pink-Velvet-Extras-1.mp4
The audio finally kicked in. It wasn’t the sound of scissors cutting fabric. It was the sound of a heavy curtain being drawn back in Elias’s own living room. He froze. He lived alone. He didn’t have pink curtains. He turned around slowly