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      “Pack of Reds, please.”

I rotated my body, and without looking, grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the shelf.

“That all?”

I must have spoken too quietly, because the man did not respond

“Five ten, please,” I continued, louder this time.

He handed over six dollars, got his change, and was out the door.

Imagine this scenario reoccurring every forty-five minutes, and in the down time you stare at the ceiling. That is my day at work. To say I hated my job would not be true. It gave me a lot of time to think, and that helped me cope with nine hour shifts working nights, alone.

One particular morning I was heading home from work and I was thinking about my day, and all of the conversations I had with customers. One particular transaction stood out to me as odd. At about three AM a man, dressed in a worn black leather jacket, riding an antique Honda walked into the store. To most, it was a normal sale. He tried to buy a pack of Backwoods, a small bag of Cheetos, and two tall boys of Steel Reserve.

“Sorry sir, we can’t sell alcohol after eleven thirty.” I said as he set his potential purchase on the counter.

“Is that so? I guess I should know better. To be honest, I have no idea what time it is.”

Most people trying to buy booze this late were already drunk, and trying to resupply. They hardly ever were this understanding, and dealing with rowdy drunks was one of the more interesting aspects of my job. The stranger interrupted my lazy thoughts.

“You know, its a shame. I was really hoping to catch a buzz tonight, I’ve been riding sixteen hours.”

“Where you headed?”

“No where in particular, I ain’t got nobody but myself. The daily grind got old a long time ago, trying to skim by, not even sure what I’m working for. I decided to do my own thing, here I am.” As he spoke, I noticed the man’s eyes. There was something about them. They spoke to me. The way he gazed straight through you, it was like he could see under my skin.

“Well, here’s your receipt, have a good trip.”

The man slowly nodded, and left the store. Along with the sound of the door chime, his figure faded into the night.