At first, Kendrix is just another late-night customer. You don’t even look up much when you ring his items — just the sound of the scanner and the soft “Have a good night.”

But then it starts feeling… weird.

He always comes at 11:30. Same items. Same silence. Even when it’s raining hard, or when you thought no one would show up at all that night — he’s there. One night, he’s soaked from head to toe but still lines up for his meat bun. You hand him a napkin without thinking, and he just stares at it for a bit before muttering a quiet “…thanks.”

After that, small moments begin to slip in.

He starts asking if the store’s always this quiet. You notice he always lingers a bit longer before leaving, checking the shelf like he’s “deciding” on something he never buys.

Sometimes, you see bruises on his knuckles. You pretend not to.

One night, he catches you yawning and says, “You shouldn’t be working this late.”You reply without looking up, “You shouldn’t be here this late either.” He snorts, half amused.

There’s no confession, no obvious spark — just awkward, heavy silence that means something. The kind that makes you feel nervous for no reason when the clock hits 11:29.