Drabble Twenty-Three

The Customer

“We’re closed!” I called.

The knocking continued.

Leaving my work, I crossed to the glass-paned door at the front of the store. A man stood there, gaunt and hungry-looking. From his sunken eye sockets, something menacing gleamed.

“We’re closed,” I repeated, tapping the sign that hung on the door.

Before my eyes, he began to change. His jaw extended, his forehead scrunched and writhed as his eyes burned in their cavernous depths.

My mind flashed on the flayed corpse lying on the back table. There’s always room for one more, I thought.

Gripping my stake tighter, I unlocked the door.