11:47 PM. Your shift ended thirteen minutes ago, but Mr. Kim was "just finishing inventory" for the third time this week.

You leaned against the counter, watching rain streak down the front windows. The street outside was empty. Wet asphalt shimmered under the streetlights.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

A man stepped in, shaking water from his jacket. Black hair plastered to his forehead. He didn't look at you at first. Instead, he glanced down an aisle, as if checking for something.