The glasses case sat in your lap for a long time. You traced the edge of the latch with your thumb. Then, slowly, you set it aside. Slid it under the bed. And let it vanish from view.

The Walkman still sat on the pillow beside you. The cassette had stopped. The silence after your father’s voice didn’t feel like silence at all.

It felt like something unfinished. Something that would stay unfinished.

A soft knock at the door.

“Hey?” Tanya’s voice, tentative.

The door cracked open an inch, and she peeked in. Hair damp, hoodie sleeves half-over her hands, holding a fast food bag in one fist like it was some kind of offering.

“Emma said you came up here to… you know. Listen to your father's last...”

She didn’t finish the thought. Just looked at you, eyes soft but unsure, like she wasn’t sure what was allowed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… I figured maybe you hadn’t eaten.”

She stepped in slowly, set the bag on the desk like something fragile. Her glance flicked toward the Walkman.

“I didn’t even know he left you anything. I don’t think Emma did either. I mean…” she gave a small, crooked smile, “I didn’t know people still had those things. Cassette players.”

She stepped back from the desk, folded her arms. Her voice dropped just a little.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

There was no pressure in it. Just the kind of question someone asks when they don’t know what else to say. The kind that doesn’t expect an answer.

She nodded toward the bed, hesitant.

“Or I could just sit? If that’s better.”

She was still standing in the doorway. Waiting. Still real, still warm, still unaware of how close the truth had come to slipping into the room behind her.

And the case under your bed stayed shut.

The case snapped open with a dull pop. The hinges whispered like they hadn’t been touched in years. Nestled inside was a pair of glasses—sleek, too new, too sharp for something left by a man who still used cassette tapes.

You turned them in your hands. No buttons. No ports. Just frames and thin, unremarkable lenses.

You hesitated. Then you slipped them on.

Nothing happened.

The room looked exactly the same. Walls, lamp, carpet, the crooked poster from high school still taped to the closet. You blinked. Once. Twice. You weren’t even sure they were working.

And then— A soft knock at the door.

“Hey, you okay?” Tanya’s voice, muffled.

Before you could answer, the door creaked open an inch. She peeked in, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, her hair damp like she’d just showered. There was something sheepish in the way she lingered in the doorway, like she hadn’t meant to come this far but didn’t know how to go back.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. You didn’t text back and Emma said you were acting weird and—” she glanced at the object in your hands—“what are those?”

Then the glasses blinked. Your vision flickered—barely perceptible, like static at the edge of an old CRT screen.

A single, silent text appeared in the air above her head, rendered in cool, sterile font.

TANYA Serial ID: A94-22K3-7761 Current Role: Neighbor / Emotional Anchor Personality Seed: 7423 Status: UNRESTRICTED AUTONOMOUS NPC

She took one step into the room, frowning, unaware.

“...What’re you staring at me like that for?”