He picked up his phone. The screen’s glare was a physical weight against his tired eyes. He opened the camera app, the lens struggling to focus on the frost patterns crystallizing on the windowpane. Click. was saved to his cloud.
Elias turned around. The blue light wasn't coming from his router. It was coming from a small, palm-sized device tucked into the vent duct above his bed—a device that shouldn't have been there, broadcasting a signal to someone waiting in the parking lot below. IMG_20230131_014326_328.jpg
Room 328 wasn't where he was. He was in 32B. The "8" was a smudge on the brass plate. He picked up his phone
Tonight, as he watched the blue light through his camera lens, the sequence changed. Short. Short. Short. The blue light wasn't coming from his router
The floorboards in the hallway creaked. Heavy, deliberate steps stopped right outside his door. Elias looked back at his phone. The photo he just took—ending in —wasn't just a filename. It was a countdown. The doorknob began to turn.