The phone saved the image: .
Elias felt a prickle of electricity on his neck. His grandfather had been a keeper at a station three towns over until it was automated in the eighties. The old man used to mutter the exact same phrase into his tea whenever the fog rolled in. Screenshot_20221218_110753_Chrome.jpg
The filename Screenshot_20221218_110753_Chrome.jpg sounds like a digital ghost—a tiny fragment of a Sunday morning captured forever. Since I can't see the actual image, I’ve imagined the story behind what someone might have been looking at on December 18, 2022, at 11:07 AM. The phone saved the image: