The line went dead.
I called the number etched into its base. A recording picked up: “You have reached the Department of Temporal Artefacts. If you are hearing this message, you have already opened it. Please do not close your eyes.” ovo 1.3.2
I put my hand on its shell.
I dreamed I was standing in a field of glass flowers. Each one rang at a different pitch when the wind passed through. In the center of the field was a door. Behind the door was a hallway. At the end of the hallway, a child sat on the floor, drawing a picture of me. The line went dead
