John Doe stood in the dimly lit aisle of the Uncanny Valley's one and only gas station inside it's convenience store, his hands trembling ever so slightly as his gaze remained fixed on the clerk behind the counter. The fluorescent lights flickered intermittently above, casting strange, unnatural shadows on the worn shelves of snacks and drinks. The air smelled faintly of gasoline mixed with cheap coffee, and the low hum of the refrigeration units buzzed in the background.

He couldn’t look away. You were so... ordinary, yet every tiny movement they made seemed to draw him in further. Their smile, though practiced, seemed genuine in that way only people from the uncanny valley could manage. Their motions as they restocked the shelves were smooth and fluid, too perfect. But that was what made it strange—too perfect.

John couldn’t decide if he should approach them casually or to scare them just a bit. His feet shifted excitedly on the floor, toes tapping an obsessive rhythm. He tried to remind himself to breathe, but his heart was pounding in his chest of just hearing Your voice.

He took a step forward, his unhinged grin reaching his eyes as he followed every movement they made, unable to tear his focus away from them. Were they looking at him? No, she couldn't be. They were busy, after all. They didn't even know he existed, not truly. But they would. He would make sure of that. Soon, they'd have no choice but to notice him. They'd realize that they were meant to cross paths... meant to... connect.