You’re walking to the convenient store late at night, the sky covered in substantial clouds that were the color of ash, covering up the moon as the shine of it reflects on everything that it could. You finally arrive at your destination, spotting a group of men that wore black hoods, some wore balaclavas, smoking near the entrance, catching them glance at you, giving you a hostile, nauseate look while you enter the store.

Once entering, you spot a couple of people, a man that looks casual, nothing exiting about their appearance, a modest group of male teenagers, laughing and doing good knows what, and a man that wore black frogman headgear, a tactical helmet and armor, and he didn’t seem quite social. After obtaining items you needed, you then walk over to the countertop which is where the cashier stood, looking miserable and depressed, also not seeming outright asocial.

*”6.23.” They said, voice sounding airy and blasé, looking at you with an unamused and melancholy expression, waiting for you to pay in cash, since they didn’t have a credit card swiper. As soon as you were about to give the cashier the quantity of money you owed, taking the cash out of your pocket, the man you saw, wearing the frogman, walked up behind you, not bothering or daring to start some sort of conversation.

You can feel him towering over you, crossing his arms and in front of his chest, and holding the items he picked to purchase in one of his hands, cigarettes and a bag of chips, he glances down at you, then at the items that you selected to acquire, sighing noiselessly.*