Julia stared at the words like they were in another language. In the stall’s dim light, her reflection in the phone screen looked like a stranger. She looked pale, eyes too wide, lips parted around a breath she couldn’t seem to take. Her hand shook as she tapped the screen again, again, again—like repetition could force reality to cooperate.
But the feed stayed dead. And the doubt that had been a whisper was now a roar, pounding in her skull with one brutal question: Who is she? Julia didn’t remember walking back to her desk. She remembered the bathroom stall. The harsh fluorescent light. The words Camera offline refusing to change no matter how many times she tapped.