Elias looked at his hallway. Leaning against the coat rack was a vibrant, sky-blue umbrella.
Elias grabbed the blue umbrella. His hands shook, but as his fingers gripped the handle, a spark of static electricity surged up his arm. Suddenly, the "blank" spots in his memory began to flicker like a film reel catching fire. He remembered a lab. He remembered a contract. He remembered the price of starting over. The doorbell rang. Note 10/29/2022 8:22:28 AM - Online Notepad
"Mr. Thorne?" a muffled voice called through the oak. "It’s time for your scheduled maintenance." Elias looked at his hallway
Elias didn't answer. He opened the umbrella—indoors, despite the superstition—and as the blue fabric unfurled, the world around him began to pixelate at the edges. The note wasn't a reminder. It was a kill-switch. His hands shook, but as his fingers gripped
