The footage was shot on a camcorder, the kind with a date stamp burned into the corner. Grainy. Jittery. A living room decorated with dollar-store cobwebs and a single jack-o’-lantern on a coffee table. Its grin was too wide, carved by someone who didn’t understand where the teeth should stop.
She shut the door. Locked it. Turned back to her laptop.
She looked at her reflection in the dead laptop screen. Her eyes were just a little too close together now. Her smile—when she tried to stop it—kept going.