Not the usual glare shift or auto-brightness adjustment. This was a deep, rolling shudder, like a sheet being snapped over a mattress. The image of his desktop dissolved, replaced by a photograph. It was his desk. Exactly his desk—the chipped coffee mug, the tangled charging cable, the sticky note that read “Buy milk.” But the photo was taken from a different angle. Higher. As if someone had been standing behind his chair.
Alex’s heart kicked against his ribs. He looked behind him. Empty room. Locked door. laptop screen shot button
Alex’s breath caught. The screen went dark. And in the perfect silence of the room, he felt a faint warmth against the back of his neck—like someone breathing, very close, over his shoulder. Not the usual glare shift or auto-brightness adjustment
He pressed PrtSc again.
Nothing happened. No flash, no click, no satisfying shutter sound. Disappointed but not surprised, he shrugged and opened a document to type a few desperate words. It was his desk
On a whim, he leaned forward and pressed it.