**I Just Found This Stuff on My Bed. It’s Making Me a Little Scared. What *Is* It?**
I wasn’t looking for a mystery when I woke up this morning. I was looking for my glasses.
At first glance, it looked like someone had spilled something on my bed while I was asleep—small, irregular clumps scattered across the white sheets. Pale, grainy, almost organic. Not liquid, not dust. Something in between. Enough to make my stomach tighten before my brain caught up.
I stood there longer than I want to admit, staring at my own bed like it had betrayed me.
Because here’s the thing: I live alone.
I locked my doors.
And I definitely did not put *that* there.
—
The bedroom was quiet in that early-morning way, the kind of quiet that amplifies every small sound. The hum of the refrigerator down the hall. A car passing outside. My own breathing, suddenly louder than usual.
I leaned in closer.
The stuff—whatever it was—had no smell. That made it worse. If it had smelled bad, at least it would have made sense. Rotting food, a spill, something explainable.
But this was odorless. Dry. Slightly crumbly.
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