[ WP ] You work the night shift at a convenience store . One night , one of your regulars comes in with an interesting proposition ...

A mind-numbing haze falls over Synkwitz & Schmidt's around 3:00 a.m. I know, because I work the night shift there. When the haze falls, it becomes the Golden Hour of the brain dead. The only other cashier, Mick, stops looking like he's aware of his surroundings and floats into another plane of existence. I have to complete all my tasks before 3:00, otherwise my own brain slows until I'm basically a toddler trying to sort groceries. 
 
 Synkwitz & Schmidt's is a mom-and-pop convenience store located at the center of the desolation that is my rural hometown. I'm here all summer under threat of death from my parents, who think that once I'm done with this last year of college I'll run off to Cuba or something. The option is n't off the table, to tell the truth. 
 
... 
 
 And here I am, considering eloping to Cuba while I narrate my life. I told you things get wonky at 3:00. I did n't have a choice with the night shift, by the way. Things are backwards here and life is just unfair sometimes. I wonder if teens in Medieval Europe ever had this problem. 
 
 It looks like Mick's settled into zombie mode. I could do anything in here and he would n't notice. 
 
 Things get really quiet past midnight. I only get one or two customers who come in super late. There's always at least one: Eddie, a cool 30-something dude who has no business walking around at this hour. He stops by to get a soda around 3:10. I do n't question why this is his routine, and he does n't question what life choices led to me being here at this time. It's a yin-yang balance kind of situation. 
 
 Whoever thought a 24/7 convenience store was a good idea in a rural town is an idiot. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Well, look who it is. Mr. Eddie, ten minutes early for his soda. He looks a bit frazzled. Sometimes I wonder what he does every night, but that usually passes. You stop caring when the haze comes down. 
 
 Orange soda seems a bit unusual for Eddie, who usually gets a root beer or coke. He's bent over at the soda cooler, reading the label on one of the orange sodas. It's one of those off-brands that come in glass bottles. He's not quite looking at it, but he has that expression you get when you are trying to remember what it is you forgot. Maybe he does n't know how to open it? He usually gets stuff in cans. I do n't know why he would n't be able to open it since he seems old enough to have encountered a glass bottle at some point in his life but... 
 
 `` Hey, we can open the bottles here at the counter.'' 
 
 My own voice startled me, like it was coming from someone else. Of all the convenient things this convenience store sells, coffee is not one of them. I *really* need to shake myself awake if I'm going to scare myself with my own voice. Eddie nodded at my advice, but it was that kind of nod you get when your friends do n't care what you're talking about. He's squatting now, seemingly having an existential crisis. I'm kind of uncertain whether I should go comfort him or something. 
 
 Oh shit, he's here at the counter. I guess I blanked for a second. He's buying the orange soda. 
 
 `` That'll be $ 2.50,'' I say. 
 
 `` Did you hear me?'' 
 
 He's talking like a kid in high school trying to slack off in math class. Low volume, fast, furtive. 
 
 `` You were n't going to buy the soda?'' I ask. 
 
 `` I need to talk to you.'' 
 
 Interesting. 
 
 `` Okay,'' I say. 
 
 `` In the back.'' 
 
 He waggled his head when he said that, motioning to the back of the store where the dairy is. Something's off about all this, but I ca n't for the life of me pull myself together enough for any alarm to set in. He's already started moving. Maybe something spilled back there. Better follow him. 
 
 His jeans have holes on the butt, right on the corners of the back pockets. Looks like he's wearing American flag underwear. And god, why does he keep looking back like someone's about to kill him? 
 
 He stopped. His hands are on my shoulders now and he's still talking in the secret voice. 
 
 `` Are you familiar with the multiverse theory?'' 
 
 `` Hm?'' 
 
 Okay... he's talking about some crazy science stuff now. Lost me on the first two words. I tried shaking my head to show I do n't understand but he's getting very intense. 
 
 `` Uh. I did n't quite get that,'' I mutter. 
 
 `` I'm not your normal Eddie.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, you're being weird tonight.'' 
 
 `` No, not just that. I do n't belong in this universe.'' 
 
 I've never felt high without weed before. This is weird. 
 
 I could only muster a half-assed, `` Wha...?'' 
 
 `` The Eddie you see every night is not here yet. He's coming soon. I'm his reflection. Like what you see in the mirror. But I got out of the mirror and into your world. He needs to be stopped.'' 
 
 Did Mick give me something potent? Is that why he shuts down every night at the same time? Things are trying to make sense in my mind, but they're caged up pretty tight and they ca n't get through. I can feel my face bending into an expression I'm not familiar with. 
 
 Eddie's talking again: `` Your real world Eddie is a serial killer. I watch him from the reflections all the time, and I'm absolutely sick of it. He's been scouting his next victim and he's finished tonight. Tomorrow he strikes. He must be stopped. He must be *killed* before he kills, himself.'' 
 
 I managed to make a logical step. `` Should n't we call the police?'' 
 
 Eddie—Mirror Eddie? —seems to be perturbed by that idea. `` Not possible.'' 
 
 Mirror Eddie—Meddie? —just slammed the orange soda bottle against a shelf. It spilled everywhere, and I did n't react in time. Now I'll have to clean my shoes *and* the sudden puddle of soda on the floor. He's holding the remains of the broken bottle by the neck and looking at me intensely. 
 
 `` You in?'' 
 
 Good question. Too bad I'm absolutely mind-drunk right now. 
 
 `` What's going on?'' 
 
 I was n't prepared for another voice to butt in. Mick's upper body is leaning out from a shelf at the end of the aisle. He looks rightfully confused. 
 
 I did n't have a chance to formulate a thought before I found myself saying, `` Eddie's a serial killer and I'm helping his mirror self kill him.'' 
 
 Mick's only reaction is a slight drop of the jaw. His mouth is open now and I ca n't help but think of a fish I saw once. Meddie is still holding his bottle. He looks so tight I feel like he'd bounce off somewhere really fast if I poked him. I just heard that dingley sound that announces when people walk in. I can see the front of the store down the aisle past Mick, who's still trying to make meaning out of what I just told him. 
 
 Holy cow. There's Eddie. He's down the aisle, but he's standing right next to me too. That's so confusing. Even knowing Meddie's explanation, my brain feels absolutely obliterated. Eddie looks confused too. His eyes are darting back and forth in panic. 
 
 I'm waiting for something to happen, but everyone's just standing there. Leave it to me to get things done, huh? 
 
 Let me just grab that bottle from Meddie... got it. I ca n't seem to walk any faster than a shuffle toward the real Eddie. It's like I'm the anti-Flash. But Eddie's not doing anything out of sheer confusion, so that's cool. 
 
 And... job's done. Eddie's on the floor with a bottle sticking out of his neck. Looks really weird. Meddie is n't there anymore, which makes sense in a way. Why would there be a reflection if the original Eddie has been successfully killed? Mick is just standing there, biting his lip. Got ta get him moving. 
 
 `` Come on, we need to mop this up.'' 
 
 That should do the trick. 
 
 Ugh. Like I told you, 3:00 a.m. is a weird time.
