I was halfway through cooking dinner when it happened—nothing special, just a normal evening, a pan of ground beef sizzling on the stove, the kind of routine you don’t think twice about.

Curled. Out of place.

I froze.

It didn’t look like meat. Not really. It was longer, thinner… almost worm-like. The kind of thing your brain instantly flags as wrong before you even have time to think.

I set the spoon down slowly, my stomach tightening.

“What is that?”

I leaned closer, trying to make sense of it without touching it. It didn’t move—but continue reading …