Don't Look Up

Every night at 2:33 a.m., my phone buzzed with the same notification: “Come downstairs.”

I lived alone. I blocked the number. It kept coming. I turned off my phone.

It still buzzed—dark screen, no messages. Last night, the notification

changed: “I’m on the stairs.” I froze, listening. A step creaked.

Then another. My phone buzzed again—this time right in my hand: “Don’t look up.”