Part 2 The man in the photo

After my sister sent that last picture, nobody in the group chat joked anymore.

At first we tried to explain it away.

Reflection glitch.

AI enhancement on her phone.

Some weird camera artifact.

But there was one problem.

My sister lives three hours away from my dad.

That flannel shirt was still hanging on the back of my dad’s kitchen chair when she took the photo.

My dad even sent a picture to prove it.

Same shirt.

Same pattern.

Still at his house.

That’s when my sister called.

Not texted.

Called.

She sounded like she had been crying.

She said something weird had happened that afternoon.

Her baby monitor had turned on by itself.

The screen lit up while she was washing dishes.

She thought the baby had woken up.

But when she looked at the monitor, the baby was still asleep.

The room looked normal.

Except someone was sitting in the rocking chair.

At first she thought it was just shadows.

Then the chair moved.

Just a small rock forward.

Then back.

Forward.

Back.

She ran to the room immediately.

The chair was perfectly still.

No one inside.

But the baby was awake.

Just staring at the corner of the room.

Smiling.

Later that night, she checked the photo again.

Zoomed in more.

Way more.

And she noticed something none of us saw before.

The man’s hand.

The one resting near her shoulder in the microwave reflection.

He was holding something.

A phone.

And it was pointed at her.

Like he was taking a picture too.

We thought that was creepy enough.

Until my sister noticed the screen of the phone.

It wasn’t black.

It was lit.

You could see the tiny image on it.

A photo preview.

And the preview wasn’t of her kitchen.

It was of our dad’s dining room.

The birthday dinner.

The exact moment the first photo was taken.

Like he was standing there that night too.

Taking the same picture.

From behind us.

Then my dad said something that made everything go silent.

He said the man looked familiar.

Not someone he knew.

But someone he had seen before.

He went quiet for a long time.

Then he said it happened two weeks before his birthday.

He woke up in the middle of the night.

Went downstairs for water.

And when he turned on the kitchen light…

There was a man sitting at the table.

Grey hoodie.

Hands folded.

Just watching him.

My dad said they stared at each other for maybe two seconds.

Then my dad blinked.

And the chair was empty.

He convinced himself he had dreamed it.

But before he went back upstairs…

He checked the back of the chair.

There were five deep finger marks in the wood.

Like someone had been gripping it really hard.

My dad never told us.

Because he thought it sounded crazy.

Tonight my sister sent another message.

No picture this time.

Just one sentence.

She said she finally checked the baby monitor recording from yesterday.

At 3:12 AM the camera turns on.

No one enters the room.

But the rocking chair starts moving again.

Slow.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Then the baby sits up in the crib.

Looks straight at the chair.

And waves.

Like someone just walked into the room.

Then the baby says something.

Clear as day.

Three words.

“Hi again, dad.”