"The Heart of a Killer"
The bell above the convenience store door sang a pretty tune notifying the entering of a customer. The young curly redhead behind the cash register counter looked up from his phone to see the store's most frequent customer.
This frequent customer came at the same time at the end of the week and bought the same thing.
With an army green wool hat to help keep his head full of hair warm, black tinted shades that hid his eyes, and a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. Tobacco smoke followed behind the man like a ghost to his favorite aisle.
Though the cashier couldn't see, he could definitely hear the sound of the man picking up his precious merchandise. He then went to the refrigerators and grabbed another product that almost completed his purchase.
The man's brown waterproof snow boots trudged toward the cashier with a trail of melting snow drawing after him.
He placed exactly four bottles of Bourbon Whiskey and a six-pack of Budweiser on the counter with a thud.
He took a long drag of his cigarette, pulled it out of his mouth, and turned to the side to blow.
There was a no smoking in the store policy, but the boy always let him do it because he wasn't in the store long enough to bother anyone with the smell.
To be exact, no one else was ever in the store when he arrived. That's how consistent and scheduled his time there was.
Knowing the last thing he needed, the boy turned around to grab a box of Newports.
"Want these?" he asked.
The man gave a sharp nod.
He never talked, even if he was asked how his day was or how he was. He never gave a verbal answer, only used body language.
Some would say he was suspicious-looking. He was quiet. No one ever saw his face because he always wore shades, and he never showed up to any of the Barrow community events.
To the young boy, though, that didn't raise suspicion. It raised intrigue.
Who was the man behind the shades, and what was his story?
He didn't even have to give the man his price because he already knew what it was. By the time he was done packing up his purchase, the man already had his money held out to the boy.
"Thank you," the boy took it and entered it into the register.
He looked back up to give him his change, but the man was already heading for the door.
"Hey! Your change!"
The man only waved his glove covered hand, telling him to keep it.
"Wait, sir!"
This time the boy's words did make him stop.
The boy had no real good reason for stopping him. All he wanted to do was cure his own curiosity.
"What's your name, sir?" He asked. "I don't see you around town much, only when you come in here."
The man didn't give a response. He just stood there.
"My name's Lewis." The young boy introduced himself, hoping that would open the man up in some way.
Unfortunately, Lewis didn't get his answer. For the man just walked out, the bell signaling his exit.
