Lisa didn't blink. "I didn't stop," she whispered. Her voice was much clearer than it should have been for a twenty-year-old recording. "I'm just waiting." "Waiting for what, honey?"

Lisa stepped closer to the camera. Her image began to pixelate at the edges, her yellow dress flickering like a dying lightbulb. "For him to open the file."

The screen went black. A single line of white text appeared in the center of the media player:

The video opened to a shaky, handheld shot of a backyard birthday party. The timestamp in the corner read . The sun was golden, the kind of light that only seems to exist in old home movies.