The first drop had not fallen yet.
And yet, there was already a mark.
I stared at it for several seconds.
A small white stain beneath the collarbone.
It looked like wax.
I touched it.
It wasn’t there.
I could only see it.
I looked away.
When I searched for it again, it was gone.
I assumed it was fatigue.
I assumed I had been staring at the candle for too long.
Then I found the photograph.
I didn’t remember taking it.
It showed my torso.
The date belonged to tomorrow.
The mark appeared in exactly the same place.
Not one.
Three.
The room remained still.
The flame remained still.
The problem was the photograph.
Because the three marks had different shapes.
As if they belonged to different moments.
As if they had accumulated over time.
I looked at the candle.
Nothing had started yet.
That was what disturbed me.
Not the image.
The order.
For several minutes I tried to convince myself the timestamp was wrong.
I opened the file properties.
I checked them once.
Twice.
Three times.
The date remained tomorrow.
I closed the folder.
I opened it again.
There was a new file.
I did not remember seeing it before.
Its name was:
“AFTER THE FOURTH DROP”
I didn’t open it.
First I looked at the candle.
Then at the photograph.
Then at my skin.
The third mark had returned.
This time it did not disappear.
The sensation arrived several seconds later.
It wasn’t pain.
It was recognition.
As if the body remembered something before I did.
As if part of me already knew the outcome.
I opened the file.
Inside was a note.
Only one line.
“This time you will watch the fourth one.”
I remained motionless.
Because I had never mentioned a fourth drop.
There weren’t even three.
I returned to the photograph.
Now there were.
Four.
The last one was higher.
Closer to the neck.
I searched for the familiar sentence.
It wasn’t there.
I read the note again.
Then a third time.
Then a fourth.
Still nothing.
For the first time, its absence worried me more than its presence.
I closed the file.
The folder remained open.
But it no longer had the same name.
Now it read:
“AFTER NOTICING ITS ABSENCE”
Beneath it was a second photograph.
It did not show the skin.
It did not show the candle.
It showed the screen.
My screen.
The current one.
The difference was minimal.
In the lower corner there was an open window.
A window that did not yet exist.
The title was simple.
“FIRST TIME IT DIDN’T APPEAR”
I have to move my neck…
