The Midnight Visitor

Dr. Hartley kept meticulous records. Thirty years of patient files, research notes, and observations — all organized, all dated, all stored in the locked cabinet behind his desk.

So when he arrived at his office on a Tuesday morning to find a new file on his desk — one he had never seen, with his own name printed on the label — he sat down very carefully and did not touch it for a long time.

The file contained twelve pages. The first was a photograph of himself, taken from outside his office window at night. The timestamp read 2:14 AM, three nights ago.

He had not been in the office at 2:14 AM. He was certain of that. He had been at home, asleep.

Or had he?

He turned to the second page. It was a handwritten note. And the handwriting was unmistakably his own.

He read it twice. Then he locked his office door, pulled down the blinds, and read through every remaining page until he understood what he had apparently done — and forgotten entirely.

By the time he finished, it was dark outside again.

He looked at his locked cabinet for a long moment.

He hadn't been the only one using the key.