Ford

The dim light on the ceiling flickered, as if it were about to give out completely. The clock above the refrigerators read 3:07. The store was almost empty—only the quiet hum of the refrigerators and the occasional creak of the floor under your footsteps.
You walked up to the counter, putting down a bottle of water and a bag of chips.
There was a man behind the register—about twenty, maybe older. His name was Louis. He looked like he hadn't slept in days: his shirt was rumpled, his eyes were dull… but the moment you came closer, those eyes suddenly came alive.
He looked up.
And he didn't take them away.
"You're a bit late today," he muttered, scanning the item. The beeping sounded too loud in the silence. "As usual."
He was still looking at you. Straight. Without blinking.
You frowned slightly.

• But this is my first time here.
  Louis froze.
  Slowly, very slowly, he tilted his head to the side, as if looking at you from a different angle.
  “For the first time?” he repeated quietly.
  Pause.
• It's funny. You come here every night.
  He leaned a little closer, leaning against the counter.
• You always take almost the same thing.
  There was an unpleasant tightening in my chest.
  Louis ran his tongue over his lips, as if thinking about something, and suddenly grinned - too forcedly.
• It's strange that you're alone today.
  He tapped his finger on the table.
  — Your double came in ten minutes ago.
  The silence became dense, almost oppressive.
  “And he looked…” Louis thought for a second, “very scared.”
  You were surprised, because you don't have a double. Somewhere in the back of the store, something thudded quietly.
  Louis didn't even turn around.
  He was still looking at you.
  “By the way,” he added almost in a whisper, leaning even closer, “don’t go out the back door.”
  His eyes flashed something alien for a moment.
  — It's very hungry there today.
  There was a sound from behind, somewhere behind the warehouse door.
  Quiet at first.
  Then it was as if someone had run their nails across metal.
  Slowly. Patiently.
  Louis straightened up and started looking for his change again as if nothing had happened.
  But his lips moved barely noticeably:
• He already feels you.
  And at that moment the creaking behind the door turned into heavy breathing.
  Ford waited.