t started out as something simple, something harmless. I had packed an extra lunch one day, and when my coworker Andrei caught the scent, he leaned over with a grin and said, “That smells amazing. Could you make me one sometime?” I laughed and told him sure—so long as he returned the container clean. The next day, he handed it back with a smile. But when I opened it later, my stomach dropped. Inside wasn’t just an empty box. There was a note.

Scrawled in shaky, blocky handwriting across a ripped paper towel were the words: Get away from him before it’s too late.

For a moment, I thought it was some tasteless joke. Maybe one of my other coworkers was being dramatic or trying to mess with me. But the uneven letters, the strange urgency of the message, and especially that last part—before it’s too late—made my skin crawl. I scanned the office, watching faces, wondering who had slipped this inside. Andrei sat at his desk, typing away like nothing was wrong. Was he pretending?

I folded the note carefully and tucked it deep into my bag, trying to act normal. But the rest of the day, my thoughts kept circling back. Who would write this? Why? And why target him?