I press one. This needs thinking about.

As I pace back and forth, I realise I feel detached, like I’m observing this in the same way a writer observes the characters in a story-in-progress. Perhaps that’s the best way. Treat it as a puzzle to be solved. I can’t let myself admit that it’s really happening.

I don’t believe in time travel. I also don’t believe I’ve made any significant enemies. How does it come to be my voice? One step at a time here.

The message was very specific. That particular gun, not any old gun. If it’s a prank, there’ll be something inside the locked case. The prankster would want me to follow the trail.

On the other hand, who could it be? Could one of my sister’s friends at the party last night have stuck something in the closet under lieu of going to the toilet?

I stop pacing. There is one way the message could be in my voice. I have about an hour of last night unaccounted for, and my sister’s boyfriend’s uncle is a hypnotist. Could he…

It’s either that or time travel.