Was walking back from a cleaning gig when I saw the light again—small, humming, like someone lit a match inside a jar. Heard my name in my head. Not cool. Not legal. Definitely not normal. Jotted the time on my arm; the ink wouldn’t wash out for two days.
The building’s plumbing laughed last night. Neighbor thinks it’s bats. I think it’s practice for whatever’s coming. Either way, I slept with the lights on.