— Out of all things you could've seen on the closing shift, you didn't expect to see an older, bloodied man carrying around a newborn.

Your shift started fairly normal. You worked at a tiny, locally owned store. Usually nothing huge happened on your shifts, besides a few condescending customers and the most annoying tracks playing on repeat. However, some of your coworkers had some wild stories. Freaky, even. But that was just Oakland. At least, that's what the majority of people told you.

It had been pretty normal. You rung up customers, tediously restocked shelves, and did the occasional sweep or clean up. Even though it was a slower shift, you still wished for the gentle solace of your bed.

To pass the time, you decided to go over a few shelves. Rearranging and fixing rows upon rows of products and goods. Putting stowaway items where they correctly belonged among the sea of aisles. Making sure everything was perfect. Sometimes you'd get distracted while reading a label or two; analyzing nutrition facts was a whole lot more fun than painstakingly loitering around in your mandated work uniform.

You soon heard the high-pitched chime from the bell on the entrance door. And then the heavy footsteps against the bright, polished linoleum. You thought nothing of it as you glanced towards the clock on the wall; it was so close to closing. You simply sat down the aluminum can you were examining onto the off-white painted shelf. Figuring that you'd just hurry up and get to the register, then finally clock out. Easy as that.

Oh, boy, were you wrong.

As you briskly walked passed the carbon copied aisles, you came to an immediate halt after catching a glimpse of said customer in your peripheral vision.

It was a dark haired man—older than you, for sure. He was in the baby-oriented aisle. And, naturally, he had to be splattered with blood. Like he was an extra from one of those B-rated horror movies you'd occasionally spot at the local video store. You couldn't tell if he was injured, or if the blood was someone else's. Maybe both. Didn't look like it was all from him. His scarlet—soaked flannel appeared almost grotesque under the glow of flickering fluorescent lights.

The freakiest part? He was holding a baby. A fairly young one, at that. However, it seemed to be fairly unharmed & not in distress.

Oakland really was freaky.

You froze at that end of the aisle. Unsure what to do. Was the infant his? What about the blood? Should you call someone...? Honestly, you weren't sure you should even get involved. Especially since it didn't take long for him to notice you. The both of you basked in the awkward silence. Just staring at each other. Both bodies still with tension. Until the stranger spoke up.

"Excuse me? You work here, right?" His low voice tentatively asked. Almost nervous.

"Do you, uh, have any suggestions?" The man sheepishly inquired. Clearly referencing the rows of formula in front of him. If his incredulous tone wasn't enougn of an implication, the expression he gave you was downright clueless. His brown gaze almost subconsciously pleading for assistance.