Inside the store was na unidentifiable species.
It was similar to a person, it had arms, legs and a head, but the 'thing' had no eyes or nose, in its face only a row of sharp teeth.
The being's skin was a translucent gray, if you looked closely you would notice the blue blood vessels pulsing beneath it.
What most caught Zan's attention was the fact that the 'thing' was wearing the convenience store clerk's uniform, or at least the rest of the uniform, the striped blouse was in tatters, the sleeves and half of the torso they had disappeared.
Zan watched the two-meter 'thing' move coming face to face with him.
Still in front of the automatic door, Zan ended up in a strange game of staring with na eyeless critter...
"..."
Even after tem minutes neither moved, the door with motion sensor closed and opened around twenty times, impatient Zan decided to risk, if the alien wanted to kill him would have done some time ago.
"Sho, sho."
He moved his hands as if scaring a dog.
The 'thing' stared at him for a while, then turned and walked to the back of the store...
"..."
Grrr...
Forget the rest, food first.
Normally he would focus on those details, but the hunger was unbearable, his stomach seemed to twist with every second begging for food.
He walked up a shelf and picked up three bags of instant noodles, all of low quality costing no more than three racs each. With only one rac left, he grabbed a small package of crackers on sale.
Satisfied, Zan left his only note in the register and grabbed a small plastic bag to pack his groceries.
Before leaving he didn't forget to wave at the camera like a good citizen, being accused of theft was the last thing he needed.
...
Upon arriving at his small apartment, Zan put all the noodles on the fire and went to check his emails.
Zan's apartment was one of the cheapest you could find, it had a room that could be used as a bedroom and living room, a mini kitchen and a bathroom. It would be satisfying for someone who lives alone if it weren't for the bad location, the criminal neighbors and the paper-thin walls.
Seeing he didn't have any new emails, Zan sighed in relief, his back visibly relaxing in the chair.
His boss wouldn't bother him with a sudden job this week.
He worked as a writer for a third-rate newspaper, the only legal job his eighteen-year-old orphan self could find. Now twenty-two he still gets the salary of a part-time student.
Seeing that five minutes had passed, Zan crawled over to the small stove and turned off the fire.
He poured a quarter of the dough into a disposable cup and blew it. When the temperature was satisfactory he turned the glass at once, chewing and swallowing the noodles without even feeling the taste of cheap preservative.
When he was ready to fill the glass again, Zan noticed that something was wrong. Since when did industrialized food taste like shit?
He felt the noodles rise back up the path he had come down and ran to the bathroom, dumping everything out.
He didn't know if it was because they changed the preservative or the recipe, but the taste was unpalatable, his throat burned like he'd ingested acid, Zan wouldn't be eating noodles again anytime soon.