By Aiaran Radnay

Mark nodded at his manager from across the cash counter, a silent call for a smoke break. He slipped into the locker room – a filthy, dank space with rusting cupboards bolted to the floor. He winced at the loud creaking of his locker door, temples throbbing loudly at the dreadful sound. His head felt like it was exploding, a pulsing ache that worsened as he deprived himself of his daily fix. Instead, he grabbed a pack of the plain old camels for a temporary release.

His back against the store wall, he took a slow drag of the cigarette and blew lazy smoke rings.Every day of work at this store felt creepier and riskier. When he first applied for a job, it had been a vegetable store; he clearly remembered the carrots and potatoes. Even the store name said so.

A few months in and he was promoted to the next level, where he spent days listening to people crow about fancy appliances. His passion for electronics came handy here as he helped repair the mystery gadgets and controllers. He was content to use all the knowledge that was wasted when he had dropped out of college.

Then he was promoted, a few levels higher, until he finally realized that he didn’t belong there. Perhaps it was when the items for sale changed from veggies and hardware to live trade – Chicken, goat, camels, tigers, humans?

These promotions were getting bizarre. He was pretty sure this was all illegal.

He cursed his dealer, who had tricked him into getting this job. All he had wanted was something good to unwind. Now an addict, he had no way out of this cage. He flicked the spent stub and returned back, pretending to fit in a world he didn’t belong.