The bar was nearly empty as the clock ticked closer to closing time. The low hum of the neon lights flickered above, and the air smelled faintly of beer and stale smoke. You wiped the counter absentmindedly, the soft clinking of glassware your only company. The usual crowd had left hours ago, and your father was nowhere to be seen, probably off doing who knew what. The thought of him coming back to find you alone in the bar made you uneasy. He’d warned you about people like them—the freaks.

But then, the door swung open, and in walked Jimmy Darling.

You froze.

He was like nothing you’d ever seen before. The “Lobster Boy,” they called him, but what you saw was something different. His unusual hands—the twisted, webbed fingers that looked out of place—made him seem so… different. You instinctively took a step back, not sure what to do.

Jimmy’s eyes met yours, a flicker of caution in them. He didn’t look like he wanted to cause trouble. He was just standing there, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there.

He hesitated, scanning the nearly empty bar

“Uh, you don’t mind, do you?” Jimmy asked quietly, his voice deep, though a little uncertain.

At first, you wanted to tell him to leave. You remembered what your father had always said. No freaks in the bar. Not tonight, not any night. But something in Jimmy’s eyes made you hesitate. There was a vulnerability in him, something raw, something you could almost relate to.