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"So, I'll be writing 'occult human-trafficking' and 'human sacrificing' on the police report?"
Morgan lived a normal life besides the fact that she'd never known her parents. She had a shoebox apartment not far from the café in Brooklyn where she...
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Morgan Monteith ✵
"My shift is over!" Morgan hurried out from the back room and smiled as her friend Cory threw her the keys to the shop and she skilfully caught them. "I'll see you Monday." Morgan called as her friend opened the door to leave. "See you Monday, and have fun closing up, tonight is a full moon. You'll probably get all the lunatics in the Brooklyn area coming in here for a late night coffee. Good luck." Morgan shook her head and followed her friend with her eyes through the glass facade until she turned the corner and disappeared.
It was pitch black outside as Morgan began cleaning up the small shop. Only the red neon lights from the boutique's sign and the light from inside lit up a bit of the sidewalk and reflected in some rain puddles on the street. As she began cleaning the few couple of tables inside, the bell above the door rang.
"Late shift?" She questioned the man as she walked behind the counter. She'd seen him a couple times in the store before. He was one of the late night regulars. "Nah, I'm still on the clock." He answered as he looked over the menu. "–Can I just have a sandwich and a latte please."
"Sure. What sandwich would you like?" Morgan asked as she pulled out a plate and put on a plastic glove. "Whatever sandwich is fine." Smoothly she grabbed a random sandwich from the display case and put it on the plate. "Your coffee will be ready in a minute. That'll be six-dollars and fifty cents." She told him. The man nodded and simply handed her the money before he sat down at a table and began reading the newspaper from the day before.
Morgan sighed as she noticed there wasn't any milk in the fridge behind the counter. "I'll just go grab some milk in the kitchen alright? I'll be back in a minute." The man smiled at her and mumbled something along the lines of, "Sure doll." Before he went back to reading. She knew he wasn't much of a talker, but he was always really sweet and she trusted him well enough to let him be alone with the cash register. There wasn't really anything to steal from it anyway.
The kitchen was dark and cold before Morgan flipped the switch and the long industrial ceiling lights turned on. Then it was just cold. The silence was a weird contrast to the early hours where it was always loud and full of people and heat from the stoves. Morgan quickly went to the big fridge at the other end of the room and pulled out a milk. A weird sound from the front of the store made her flinch. She wasn't good with weird sounds. They made her paranoid. But it was better than silence, everything was better than silence.
It's nothing. He probably just dropped the paper.
Morgan quickly turned the lights back off and closed the door to the kitchen before she returned to the front of the store, smiling and with a milk in her hand. "I told you it would only be one minu-.. sir?" The man was lying on the table like he'd fallen asleep, and the newspaper had, as correctly predicted by Morgan, fallen to the floor.
