Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

I found my house key on the kitchen table. Weird, since it was already in my pocket. I shrugged it off—until my wallet appeared on the couch while I was holding it. Then my phone buzzed with a photo I didn’t take: my living room, from the hallway, timestamped five minutes in the future. I heard a soft click from the hall. Like a door unlocking. I checked the lock. Still latched. The hallway light seeped under the door like a thin blade. My phone buzzed again. Another photo. The same hallway—