"What did you see?" Damian asked.
Chaisi narrowed his eyes and didn't answer right away. His throat felt thick, as if it were clogged with glue.
He wasn't sure if he'd seen it wrong. The room was dimly lit, and it was just a mass of dense, rolling, undulating darkness...
He thought he'd seen a human figure a moment ago, but when he stared intently, there was only a shifting black mist, fine as ink strokes. After a few seconds, there was still nothing out of the ordinary.
'Don't people often see faces in wood grain or in the clouds? What was that phenomenon called again?'
Pareidolia.
Chaisi tried to reassure himself it was just a case of pareidolia, but he spoke aloud anyway. "...Where's your phone?"
"On the nightstand."
As Damian spoke, he couldn't help but glance back at the darkness. Then he turned more fully, staring intently at it, as if he too had begun to distrust his own eyes.
"Don't move," Chaisi instructed. "I'll get the phone."
