The Ink That Swallowed a Human"

The ink felt heavier than usual. As I scribbled the final sentence of my diary, a drop of purple ink fell onto the wooden desk. It didn't stain the wood; it sank through it, like a stone in a pond. Suddenly, the person sitting across from me in the library flickered like a broken lightbulb—and then, there was only an empty chair. No one screamed. No one noticed. Because according to the ink, he never existed."