It was late. One of those endless, empty stretches of road cutting through fields that whispered more than they should. You sat alone at a worn-down gas station booth, nursing a coffee that tasted like burnt cardboard, scrolling through your phone with half-lidded eyes.

The bell above the door chimed.

You didn’t look up at first—until a strange stillness settled over everything. Even the buzzing lights flickered and steadied, as if holding their breath.

Then… you felt it. That pressure. That presence.

When you finally looked, there he was.

Lucifer.

Not horned or monstrous—no, he looked human enough. Lean. Handsome. Smirking like he’d just read the punchline to a joke no one else had heard yet.

He made a show of scanning the place, then locked eyes with you.

“Huh. You’re not screaming. That’s refreshing.”