The screen flickered. The timestamp in the corner of the video read . There was Sarah, laughing at something off-screen, her face illuminated by a single candle. She looked directly into the lens, her eyes bright and impossibly alive.
He clicked "Convert to MKV," watching the progress bar crawl forward. It felt like a ritual. He wasn't just changing a file format; he was trying to preserve a ghost. The original MP4 had begun to glitch, the pixels tearing whenever Sarah turned toward the camera. He hoped the container swap might stabilize the playback, or perhaps he just needed to feel like he was doing something to keep the memory from corrupting. When the bar hit 100%, he took a breath and double-clicked.
The video cut to black, leaving him staring at his own reflection in the dark monitor. The file was saved, but the night was still gone.
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