I blinked. The window was, in fact, cracked open. A cold, damp breeze was curling through the gap, carrying the faint smell of wet asphalt and exhaust. I got up, slid it shut, and stared back at the phone.
"Thanks," I whispered, more to the empty room than the device. my phone companion
My blood ran cold. Not because it was creepy—though it was—but because it was tender . An algorithm had just done something my friends, my family, my own brain had failed to do: it saw me. I blinked
It felt like a blanket.
"Who programmed you to say that?" I asked. I blinked. The window was
The message read:
The three little dots appeared. It was typing back.
We will contact you as soon as possible.
Have a nice day!