Newfound Future

Chapter One: The Encounter

     Wiping the dust off of your hands you stretch your arms over your head with a sigh, your back aching from actively moving heavy boxes into the store without a break. Luckily, your visor blocked the sunlight out of your eyes, at least your eyes weren't being attacked. Quickly wiping your face, you enter through the door turning the now 'CLOSED' sign to the 'OPEN' side.

     After what seemed like the fifth time that day you checked if everything was in place, the fridges were cooling the drinks, all machines were working, and finally, the cash register was working. You had to admit, the register was a bit... old-- vintage if you will, the surface collected dirt and the buttons got stuck whenever they were pressed.

    You were 17 going on 18, and you could barely afford to take care of yourself so you didn't complain about the register. All you had left to do? Wait for customers to stroll in and hopefully buy the products. 

     You haven't realized how nostalgic the store was until you remembered your grandfather and how he was once the shop owner, how you promised him on his death bed you'd take over the store to try and keep the family legacy alive just like his father and everyone before him. You remembered his words very vividly, how he still smiled with the shake of his head.

    "Sooner or later we've all got to let go of our past."

     Those were his dying words.

     Now, you stood behind the counter wearing his apron and visor that is a tad too big on you as you try and keep the history intact with glue and tape. 

     The rest of the day went swimmingly if you say so yourself, a total of $250 bucks made. You were only able to obtain it due to the store laying on the busiest corners of New York, as well as many old seniors who have shopped at the store during your grandfather's time.

     It was 11:50 pm. Only ten more minutes until you can close up.

     The jingle of bells interrupts the quiet atmosphere, quick footsteps were accompanied by a bright cheerful giggle that echoed.

     "They actually have spicy gummy worms!?"

     "Enjoying yourself?" You raised your voice to the customer to grab their attention, it suddenly went silent before they cleared their throat. "Yup, mhm!" Their voice seemed much deeper, more forced. The person or erhm-- figure walks out of one of the many sections dressed in a large beige coat, a dark tan detective hat that covered their face. A handful of said gummy worms were in their arms, at least twenty bags.

     "You really like spicy gummy worms, huh?" 

     Dropping the bags on the counter they happily nod before looking around, a sudden gasp from them startles you. They stand directly in front of the hot dog machine that cooked them, their bright eyes staring in awe like a little kid.

     "What in icecreamkitty is this!?"

     "Hot dog machine, it cooks the hot dogs and keeps 'em warm." You chuckle. 

     "Woah, that's crazy yo!"

    You smile as bag what they bought into a recyclable bag, the person seemed to be hyper-focused on the machine. "Hey," They-- or he turns his attention towards you, "You can take as many as you want, on the house. They're probably gonna get thrown out anyway."

    His jaw drops to the floor before continuously thanking you, he immediately starts to place each hotdog in a separate bun. You pass him a clean bag before turning back to finish scanning his gummy worms. 

     "Your total is $20.50" 

     Digging through his pockets he pulls out a fifty-dollar bill placing it in your palm, as he waits for his change he rocks on his heels. Once you do he grabs the bags and spins in excitement, the scene brightening your night. 

     After a while he stops, confusion written all over his face when he sees your confused yet shocked expression. You tried to find the words to say but nothing came out, only a confused 'huh?'. His reflection from the hot dog machine suddenly makes him realize why, his hat fell off fully showing his head.

     "Who--What are you?"

     He scrambles to find an answer, an excuse. Shit, if he doesn't find one really soon he's gonna be in BIG trouble.

    "I must be hallucinating, it's nearly midnight..."

    "Uh, YES! You're hallucinating, OooOo~ This is just a dream!"

    As you silently stare at him he slowly walks backwards to the door, bumping into the window beside it before actually exiting the store. After a minute you glance at the time on your phone, 11:59, you're probably just sleep deprived of staying up the day before. 

     Before you lock up for the night you pack your things, phone, keys, and money. Making sure that the door was closed and locked you walk back to your apartment, taking the fire escape as a quick entry to your room. Shutting the window curtains you felt that something was off as if something or someone has eyes on you, surely it's not the hallucination that your mind made up back at the store? 

     You try not to think of it as you get ready to hit the hay, the whole moment seemed to make you itchy, offputting. You turn off the light of your room, and as you start getting comfortable in your bed you suddenly realize something that made you lay awake.

     If that was a hallucination, how is the money real when I held it?

     ...     

     "That wasn't a hallucination, was it."