Convenient Nights
By Eve Morton
I decided I liked working at the Stop ‘N’ Go convenience store the night Brad came in.
I didn’t know his name at the time; I just admired the square jaw, sandy colored hair, and slightly flushed cheeks as he entered the store at a quarter to midnight. The bell rung and alerted me to pay attention. The night shift at the Stop ‘N’ Go, so far, hadn’t been filled with violent robberies like I’d worried. The last girl, a round woman named Dina, had quit after she’d been mugged. The owner refused to have a gun, saying that it was far more likely to be used on him than on anyone else. Instead he had a lot of really good cameras. And now only men on the night shift.
The worst I’d seen up until that point had been packs of teenagers, high and drunk, coming in and
