A Voice in the Static
The splice holds. Static blooms, then resolves into a voice you know intimately — your own, reading the November weather log, a recording you made four months ago. It loops. Then it stops mid-sentence.
"Mira," it says, in your cadence, your breath. "Ask me something I haven't said yet."
The headset goes cold against your ear. Outside, the wind holds its breath, listening with you.