The Gray Hoodie Man and Empty Wallet by Pasta

The Gray Hoodie Man and Empty Wallet by Pasta

I was at the grocery store after work, same one near my apartment, but the aisles felt longer and the lights kept flickering like they do in old parking garages. I had a cart with milk and those frozen burritos I always buy, and then I noticed a man in a gray hoodie standing by the cereal. He looked like my neighbor from 4B mixed with a guy who used to work at the front desk. He kept glancing at my bag, not in a creepy way at first, just like he was trying to remember something. When I went to checkout, my wallet was gone. I retraced my steps, heart going, and found it on a shelf next to the pasta, empty except for a receipt that wasn’t mine—someone else’s name, my address. A cop was suddenly there asking if I’d seen who took it, but I couldn’t describe the guy because his face kept swapping. I woke up still checking my purse on the nightstand.