I found a flash drive in a regular sausage: at first I thought the flash drive had accidentally ended up in the food until I checked its contents.

The folder contained a single image: a man’s face too close to the camera, laughing—not posing, but laughing as if he knew he’d been discovered. His eyes seemed to follow whoever looked at the screen, the moment frozen and unsettling. The narrator searched for something ordinary—a watermark, a joke, an explanation—but found none.

Every possibility ran through their mind: a prank, a stunt, a mistake. Yet none explained how a USB drive ended up sealed inside packaged meat. In the end, the drive was wrapped, boxed, and put away, as if distance could dull its presence. The sausages were thrown out, breakfast abandoned, and a routine grocery trip quietly shattered any sense of what “safe” meant anymore.