Son compartido

It was 2:17 AM. I was home alone… or so I thought. Then I heard it: a slow, dragging sound coming from above. But I don’t have an upstairs. I tried to ignore it. “It’s probably the neighbors,” I told myself. The sound got closer, deliberate, like it was waiting. I grabbed my phone and turned on the camera. Nothing. But the sound didn’t stop. It was following me. My heart raced. Then my phone buzzed: “Storage full.” I hadn’t recorded anything. I opened the gallery. A video… recorded seconds ago.