What Was Left for Him
His apartment door was unlocked.
He knew he locked it before leaving.
He stepped inside—and felt it immediately.
Something was here.
His eyes swept the room. His couch. His bookshelves. His kitchen.
At first, nothing seemed wrong.
And then—
He saw it.
A note.
Sitting on his desk. His handwriting.
But he didn't remember writing it.
Al's breath hitched. He stepped closer.
The paper was worn, crumpled. Like he had written it a long time ago.
Four words.
"You already know, Ethan."
His stomach dropped.
The Shadow sighed, almost fondly.
"Welcome home."