The door to his office creaked open. There was no one there, but the sound of the typewriter clicking filled the hallway, and the audio file on his computer reached its final second.
He put on his headphones and pressed play. For the first three minutes, there was nothing but the faint hiss of static. He was about to close the file when the sound changed. It wasn't a voice, but a rhythmic clicking—like a typewriter, but faster, more organic. The door to his office creaked open
The date was tomorrow. The coordinates were his own apartment. but a rhythmic clicking—like a typewriter