THE LOBBY

The autopsy was routine until someone noticed the reflection. Not a staff member. Not equipment. A man’s face, faintly visible in the stainless steel beside the body. At first it was dismissed as distortion—until the same face appeared in another case, and another, each tied to brutal, rage-filled murders where the killer was never found. The bodies stopped moving. The photos didn’t. And whoever was responsible never seemed to leave the room.