From: E. [Handwriting inconsistent, possibly written while crouched behind the mop sink]

***************************************************

Tonight was my turn to close.

I asked Keisha—again—to vacuum the bakery aisle. She laughed in my face, held up a half-eaten bear claw, and said, “Vacuum these nuts, ‘manager.’”

Everyone laughed.

Even Daryl’s cardboard stand-in seemed to lean slightly toward the noise.

At 2:53 AM, the lights dimmed, not all at once, but in a slow cascading roll—like the power chose to fail with dramatic intent. Aisle 9 flickered longest. That’s where we shelve the promotional endcaps for “Manager’s Special$.”

Nothing is ever on sale.

I heard the cart first. One of ours — Safeway brand, three wheels working. But it rolled by itself. No one was pushing it. Just a slow, creaking squeal as it moved past the frozen section.

Inside it? One item.

A Safeway Employee Handbook, circa 2007, covered in mildew. Tabs marking Chapter 9.2. And 7.6.

I left it.

Back in the breakroom, Tabitha had left her Warhammer—er, Big Gulp—on my chair again. The condensation soaked through my pants. When I asked her about it, she just said, “Consider it disciplinary moisture, Baby Boy.”

3:12 AM.

I found the Note again. Same handwriting. Same smell. Same corner of the dry storage rack.

“Clocked in. Never clocked out.

Reassigned to Aisle X.”

$hredding won’t save you. ;)

I think that was meant for me. I think I’ve always been on Aisle X.

I tried to call corporate.

The phone played "Ride of the Valkyries" on loop for 31 minutes before sputtering out with a mechanical laugh.

When I returned to the floor, Aisle 3 was gone. In its place, a long tunnel. The kind of corridor you only see in dreams, you don't survive.

Kyle is still out “grieving.”

Tabitha keeps humming something—"Eye of the Tiger," but slower, like a funeral dirge. I asked her what it meant. She smiled, licked wing sauce off her knuckle, and said, “It means you're next, Evan.”

I haven’t left yet.

If you find this, I’m in the stockroom behind the pallet of condensed milk. Or what used to be milk. Or me.

Mainlining's Mahchine™ is angry tonight.

If it asks for a W-2… don’t give it yours.

-E39

("Just supervisor… for now.")

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5713172&forum_id=2Elisa#48862187)