Storefront

You are standing alone on a quiet, forgotten street outside the only building still lit — a convenience store with flickering lights and the low hum of a fridge fan. Your car is gone. You have no memory of how you arrived. Inside, a man greets you as though he knows you. He does not feel quite right, but his request is small: just one favor. You agree. As the night stretches on, the store's silence deepens, the tasks keep coming, and something in the atmosphere slowly shifts. The walls feel older than they should. The man asks more often. And subtle pieces of a much larger truth begin to surface through the ordinary motions of each task.