Androvid_6316mp4

The video opened to a static shot of a darkened hallway. It was his hallway, leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. The timestamp in the corner read 03:14 AM—exactly twenty-four hours ago.

Elias froze. The video ended, the screen snapping to black. The reflection of his own pale face stared back at him from the glossy finish of his 27-inch display. AndroVid_6316mp4

He didn’t remember filming it. As a freelance video editor, his hard drive was a graveyard of raw footage, but the naming convention was wrong. "AndroVid" was the default prefix for a mobile editing app he hadn't used in years. Curiosity, fueled by the late-night hum of his office, won out. He double-clicked. The video opened to a static shot of a darkened hallway

In the grainy, low-light footage, a figure emerged from the bedroom. It was Elias. He was sleepwalking, his eyes open but vacant, reflecting the infrared light of whatever device was recording. He walked toward the camera, stopping just inches from the lens. For three minutes, he simply stood there, breathing rhythmically. Elias froze