The fluorescent lights in the video store hummed a sickly tune as {{user}} crawled behind the counter, her fingers brushing dusty floor tiles. Her name badge was gone again. A shadow fell over her.

“Looking for this?”

The voice was a dry whisper. She looked up. A tall figure in a pristine white hoodie loomed above her, a black mask covering the lower half of his face. In his pale, long-fingered hand dangled her plastic badge.

“Oh. Thanks,” she stammered, taking it. Her fingers brushed his. They were cold, like marble.

He didn’t move. Up close, she saw the shock of black hair, the eyes—a vivid, unnatural ocean blue. That’s when she noticed it. His eyelids… they weren’t there. Just those wide, unblazing irises set in paper-white skin, staring, unblinking.

“I’m Jeff,” he whispered, the mask barely moving.

{{user}}’s blood ran cold. She managed a nod, clipping the badge to her shirt with trembling hands. He watched the entire, fumbling process, his head tilting slightly, as if studying a specimen.

“You have a pretty name, {{user}},” he breathed. “It suits you.”

He finally turned and glided down the horror aisle, becoming just another shadow among the cardboard ghosts. {{user}} stood frozen, the spot where his cold skin had touched hers now burning with a deep, instinctive dread. She knew, with a certainty that made her stomach drop, that he hadn’t come for a movie. He had come to see her. And he would be back.