Still, something about it didn’t sit right. Maybe it was the way he said it. Calm. Certain. Not desperate or confused—just… sure.
I glanced at the clock. It was already past midnight.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I opened the app connected to my door camera and scrolled back to the time on the note: 2:17 AM.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the footage loaded.
At first, it looked normal. Snow falling quietly. The empty street. My front door, still and silent.
Then—movement.
A figure stepped into view.
My breath caught.
It wasn’t someone I recognized. They wore a dark coat, hood pulled low, face mostly hidden. They didn’t knock. They didn’t try the handle.
They just stood there.
Watching.
For nearly two full minutes, they didn’t move.
Then, slowly… they leaned closer to the camera.
Close enough that I could almost make out their face.
And then—just like that—they turned and walked away.
I paused the video, my hands suddenly cold.
“Is this real?” I whispered.
The next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling. The note. The footage. The timing.
It didn’t feel random.
That evening, I went back to the shawarma stand.
The same vendor was there. The same cold air, biting at my face.
But the man?
Gone.
I looked around, scanning the sidewalks, the corners, even the nearby alley.
Nothing.
“Hey,” I asked the vendor, “the man who was here last night… with the dog. Where is he?”
The vendor frowned.
“What man?”
“The one sitting right here,” I said, pointing. “He asked for hot water.”
The vendor shook his head. “You must be mistaken. No one was here last night.”
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the weather.
“I bought him food,” I insisted. “You were here.”
The vendor looked confused… almost uneasy.
“I closed early yesterday,” he said. “Storm was too bad. No customers.”
I stepped back, my mind racing.
That wasn’t possible.
I remembered everything. The smell of the food, the warmth of the coffee in my hands… the way the man looked straight at me when he gave me the note.
It felt real.
Too real.
That night, I checked the camera again.
2:17 AM.
The same time.
This time, the street was empty.
No figure. No movement.
Just snow falling in silence.
I don’t know who that man was.
I don’t know how he knew.
But every night since then, I lock my doors a little earlier.
And sometimes… just sometimes… I think about that note.
And the strange feeling that someone, somewhere, decided I needed to see it.