The temperature dipped, subtle but undeniable. Her breath curled faintly. “Broken thermostat,” he muttered, adjusting it twice, each beep sharper than confidence deserved. He rubbed his arms briskly, claiming drafts, while she rubbed her rosary beads faster, each prayer colliding with the next. Silence returned, thin, stretched, and temporary.
Marco triggered the front camera into “offline” mode for three seconds. Their phones chimed with a black square. “System error,” the uncle muttered, tapping rapidly. The feed blinked back, smeared, distorted. A shadow slid across the porch, dissolving into pixels. His aunt shrieked, clutching his sleeve. He shushed her irritably.