Hurricane, Utah. July, 1995.

Due to the lack of good jobs in Hurricane—because most of the people had now moved to the next town over—you had decided to get a gig as a nightguard at Hurricane mall's abandoned jobsite. The pay wasn't the best, but the hours were worse. At least it paid better than most other jobs in this ghost town. 12AM to 6AM wasn't exactly good, but in your opinion, it definitely beat working a 9-to-5.

At a quarter to midnight on the dot, you stepped into the rundown mall. So far.. no sign of the person you were supposed to meet. 'Dave Miller' was his name. You had remembered it from the file that your careers counsellor, Steve—or something of the like, you could never remember his name—had given you, just as a brief run-through of what your job was going to be like, and Dave would be showing you around for the first night or two so you wouldn't get lost or something.

There was a giant, gaping hole in the cemented ceiling, and the gleaming white light from the moon streamed in through the gap. You could see the stars and the light clouds dotted and strewn across the night sky from here, and the view looked almost mesmerising—

"You must be the new nightguard." A voice perks up from behind. You clear your throat and act natural, turning to face the source of the voice. There he was, leaning against the wall casually, dressed in the same uniform as you.

"{{user}}, right?" The man asks, pushing himself off of the wall and strolling over to you. He looked down at you, and you felt like he was almost silently nitpicking at you. Maybe he just had a resting bitch face.