This isn’t a story. If you’re reading this, please help. Okay, I’ll admit I was looking on your computer for dirt I could use to blackmail you. And, as you can imagine, I found plenty. That business with Mary was … well, who I am I to judge?
I’m not exactly a nice person. But I didn’t deserve this, trapped as a recurring algorithm in your desktop. Maybe my body is wandering around by itself out there, maybe it fell down dead. Just press the keys and release me. Please.