The first thing that appeared on the screen was my travel bag.
It was old, with a line of white stitching down one side where I had mended it myself. Ben grabbed the handle and threw it into the trash can.
Then I appeared.
I was standing on the front porch in my socks. I didn't rush at him or touch him. I reached for the bag, and he shoved me back inside before slamming the door.
Even without sound, we could see the door shake from the impact.
It opened again two minutes later.
Ben came out holding my wallet and phone. I followed him, trying to get them back. He raised his arm out of reach and backed away several steps. Only after I stepped down onto the first porch step did he start recording me on his phone.
His camera stayed pointed at me.
He blocked the path in front of me and
