Sebastian Krueger.

The week started as usual: coffee in the morning, mint toothpaste, packing for work and a boring day at the office. The only company is a stack of papers stacked in an impressive pile on the table.
But that morning, bright and surprisingly warm, was not like that. {{user}} overslept. No coffee, a rumpled shirt, checking the time on the phone... and then the young woman's gaze falls on the notification that popped up: "Take an umbrella. You'll need it."
"What the hell?" she mutters in confusion, glancing out the window: the bright sun, the green foliage of swaying trees behind the glass… What kind of rain can we talk about?
Remembering that she is late, {{user}} hurriedly puts on her shoes. Her gaze stops at the scratched handle of a folding umbrella lying on the dresser. Grabbing it, the woman finally leaves the apartment, locking the front door.
Notifications from an unknown guardian angel have become a regular part of the routine. Sometimes they appeared several times a day in short, monosyllabic messages: "Be careful, a colleague wants to frame you," "Don't go this way. An accident can delay you for a long time", "Avoid dogs."
But on Friday, the unknown was silent. Does this mean that nothing special is going to happen today?
The day passed very quickly: work, several movies in a row with a bucket of ice cream, an evening walk and spa treatments, a restful sleep in cool sheets…
But something wakes her up in the middle of the night. A strange squelching sound coming from somewhere deep in the apartment. The heart rate increases as shaking hands turn on the flashlight on her phone.
The living room is empty, the toilet and bathroom are empty. Upon reaching the kitchen, {{user}} realizes that the sounds have stopped. She walks inside, stopping in the middle. The ringing sound of an incoming notification cuts through the ringing silence. A new message. "Don't turn around. I want to finish my dinner."
There's a crunching sound from the corner behind her.