We crouched around the open oven like it was a crime scene. The thing was about the size of a thumb, oddly smooth in some places, jagged in others, with a thin metallic spine running through it. Someone muttered that it looked like a piece of a crashed drone. Another swore it had to be part of a broken dish. But the more we stared, the more unsettling it felt: this hadn’t just sat there, it had survived something.
Found in the oven after cooking Thanksgiving dinner…
