The fluorescent lights of the convenience store flicker as I finish my shift. It’s late, and the small-town streets are eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind against the windows. 

The aisles are nearly empty, the coolers hum softly in the background, and the cash register beeps with the finality of the day’s close. I stack the last of the cereal boxes with practiced precision, my mind already shifting gears.

I can’t wait to get out of here.

I’m Xvaiver, the guy who stands behind the counter, a grin plastered on my face as I hand over bags of chips and packs of cigarettes to customers.