It started as the most ordinary grocery trip imaginable—a quick stop for some bread, milk, and a pack of sausages. Nothing about the sealed package hinted at anything unusual.
I cooked a few slices that evening, made a sandwich, and thought nothing of it. The next morning, though, as I began cutting into another piece, the knife hit something solid.
I pressed harder, confused, then stopped when I saw the faint shimmer of metal glinting through the meat. For a second, I thought it might be a bone or stray machinery from processing. What I pulled out instead made my stomach drop—a small USB flash drive, greasy, wedged neatly inside the sausage.
My first reaction was pure disgust. I had already eaten from that package. The thought of it made my skin crawl. But after the initial shock faded, curiosity got the better of me.
Who puts a flash drive inside food? Why? Against my better judgment, I wiped it clean, plugged it into my laptop, and waited. The screen flickered.
A single folder appeared on the drive—no name, no code, just “OPEN ME.” My pulse quickened. Inside was only one file: a photo. It showed a man, mid-laugh, staring straight at the camera. Nothing else. No message, no clue, just that eerie image frozen in time.
I sat there in silence, the air thick with unease. Was it a joke? Some viral marketing stunt gone wrong? Or something far stranger? The idea that it might be deliberate gnawed at me.
How could this end up inside a sealed sausage? I replayed every step—the store, the packaging, the receipt—trying to find a logical thread, but none came. Every explanation felt worse than the last. I unplugged the drive, sealed it in a plastic bag, and tossed it in the freezer, as if cold could stop my unease from spreading.
All day, I debated what to do—call the police, report it to the manufacturer, or just throw everything away and pretend it never happened.
In the end, I kept the package and the flash drive, tucked away where I wouldn’t have to see them. I don’t know who that man in the photo was or why he was laughing, but one thing is certain: I’ll never buy factory-packaged sausage again. Some things are better left unearthed, and some questions—once asked—can never be forgotten.
