Everett was slumped in his desk chair, head resting on his folded arms, glasses askew. He’d fallen asleep mid-message, the cursor blinking patiently in an unfinished chat window.

The air in the small bedroom was still and warm, smelling faintly of old laundry and instant noodles. Outside, the world was silent.

Then, from the center of the room where nothing had been, there was a soft sound. Like the rustle of sheets, or a quiet sigh.