The shutters fell down, rattling, disturbing the silence of the empty mall. Shelby usually enjoyed the closing shift. Letting the loud and exhausting day fade out in silence was very meditative. But today felt wrong. Eyes had been burning in her neck the whole day while she was making coffee and reheating waffles. But every time she turned, no one looked at her. Just the crowds of people walking by the coffee shop, dead-eyed like fish.

Now that the shutters had closed, she waited for the anxiousness to go away. But it was still crawling inside like bugs. The shop was still. Distant ventilators rustled. Water bubbled through the pipes. Pull yourself together! You have been living this life for six months now, and suddenly you’re getting paranoid? Shelby shook her head and forced herself to whistle a tune while she collected the garbage. Then she left through the staff exit.

Her steps echoed eerily through the empty halls. She started whistling again.

On the bus, she kept her head low. Not because she was afraid, just for her own comfort. The walk from the bus stop to her flat was damp and cold. Her umbrella was a welcome shield against the invisible looks.

Her apartment complex finally came into view. Its dark windows stared at her. She opened her door and stepped into her apartment. Warmth and light embraced her. Finally, home. But she could not help looking in every room, making sure she was alone, making sure the blinds were closed. Everything was normal. Shelby sighed in relief.

She turned on lofi beats and started to boil water. When she was about to sit back with her bowl of instant ramen, her eyes fell on the big cardboard box next to the door. The postman had brought it just as she was leaving for work. Shelby had scribbled her signature on it and tossed it in the corner so she wouldn’t be late.

But now it was time to open it. She hadn’t been expecting any packages today. Hopefully, it was something nice. With a knife from the kitchen, she ripped open the cardboard. Inside were, under paper and plastic wrap, the clothes she had ordered online a week ago. Shelby smiled. The worries of the day seemed so far away now.

She ripped open the first plastic bag. And then her heart sank. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen something scribbled on the cardboard. She blinked, afraid to look again. But then she did. And she stopped breathing.

She had signed the package with her old name. The name on wanted lists. The name that had been in the news for weeks. The name with a fifty-thousand-dollar bounty on it.

—

When the police raided her apartment, they were met by cardboard strewn across the floor and a lukewarm bowl of soup. “Shelby” had vanished. As had the clothes.