The gas station door opened. Warm air and highway noise drifted in.

The cashier looked over Des’s shoulder. Her face set, and she sighed through her nose. Then she spun the card reader around.

“Fifteen eighty-four.”

Des opened Apple Pay and typed his passcode in wrong. He swore. 

The cashier tapped a nail on the counter.

“ ‘Sup,” Sol said. 

No one answered.

The card reader buzzed. The cashier slid the bag across the counter. 

“You’re all set. Don’t worry about, um…” She pointed at something behind Des.

A human circulatory system stood on the rough black mat inside the door. A heart squeezed in the left side of its chest, sending tiny surges of blood rippling through its body. Its chest rose and fell gently. Its feet hovered a fraction of an inch above the dusty black mat in front of the door, like it was still standing on skin.

“Sorry,” the cashier said. “It’s harmless. See you next time.”

She could see it too.

The veins walked to the toiletries shelf. Its head bent. The bulbs of veins where its eyes should be swiveled and landed on the deodorant.

“Does that happen a lot?” Des asked.

“Yeah. Most nights.”

Sol wandered into the checkout line, carrying an Alaskan King-sized pack of peanut butter cups. “Does it ever buy anything?” he asked.

“Uh…” She looked like she couldn’t decide whether he was fucking with her. “No.”

“I guess it doesn’t have any money,” Sol said.

Nobody ever wondered whether Des was fucking with them. They just assumed. He didn’t know why.

Sol’s head was tilted to the side like he was listening for something. He still hadn’t put his peanut butter cups on the counter. The cashier half-reached for the barcode scanner, then went back to tapping her nails on the counter. They were white and sparkly.

“Is it always the same?” Sol asked. “Or are there more than one?”

“Um…” The cashier frowned. “I think it’s just one?” She pointed at the measuring tape on the door. “I could look at the security camera recordings and check if it’s always the same height.” 

“Good idea.” Sol slapped his peanut butter cups on the counter. “I forgot my card,” he told Des. “Venmo request me.”

Des opened Apple Wallet and typed in his passcode wrong again.

“Is it a problem for you?” Sol asked.

“The…” The cashier pointed. The veins were slowly walking along the back of the car-maintenance aisle. “That thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Sol nodded. “We can help.” He pulled the offer letter from American Budget Fence out of his pocket and flattened it on the counter. His starting salary was highlighted in orange. 

The cashier frowned at it.

“We work on the holes and the stuff that comes out of them.” Sol pointed at Des. “He had a letter too, but he recycled it.”

“I have a PDF.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need to see it,” the cashier said. Her eyes unfocused. She reached for a piece of her hair that was falling out of her bun. 

Then she let her hand drop and pushed the offer letter back across the counter. “Okay. Let me call my manager.”

“What’s your name?” Des asked the cashier.

“Jo.”

Headlights flashed into the parking lot.

Jo sighed through her nose. “Just yell if someone tries to check out.” She disappeared into the back, tapping on her phone screen.

“She had a name tag,” Sol said, after the door closed.

“Oh. Really?”

Reggaeton blasted in from the parking lot. Des looked up. So did the veins. Then a car door slammed, and the gas station was quiet except for the song on the store speakers. Des was sure he’d never heard it, but he couldn’t stop trying to remember what it was called.

“It said Josephina, though.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Any time.”