Considering she started her shift late, Daisy was surprisingly tired. The Pizza Stack located at the back of the Crossroad’s Convenience store had inconsistent business. Fridays, weekends, holidays… it was wild. There were some nights Daisy could barely keep up with the rush. But in the middle of the week, they closed at eight. This meant she could go home in time for the evening news, but it also meant leaving the poor kid working the night shift alone even earlier.

This week night was on the slow side. She’d only made six pies all night and spent most of her time tidying and catching up on the previous night’s drama. That’s what was wearing her out, she was sure of it.

Poor Rodney.

Daisy hadn’t seen any of the damage herself, but from what Tom and Lucy said, Rodney had really made a mess of the place. It had to be exaggerated, though. Rodney was a good kid, prickly and fastidious to the point of denigrating, but he wasn’t violent.

 The phone rang, pulling Daisy from her stupor. She drifted to the other side of the counter and grabbed the receiver.

 “Pizza Stack at the Crossroad, this is Daisy. How can I help you?”

“Yeah, guess you’re open after all…” a masculine voice said dismissively behind the static of the old, analog phone.

Daisy frowned; it had only been three rings.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well, I have a party of ten stuck in this scabby little town for the night and we’re starving. I’m going to need four large pizzas for pick up.”

Daisy was annoyed by the tone but had to admit that it was nice to have something to do. She tore four slips of paper off a pad. Each one outlines a pizza and had check boxes for sizing and toppings.

“Sounds good, what do you want on them? The standard price is $12.99 for two toppings. Any extra toppings will be—”

“It doesn’t matter,” the voice said, cutting her off. “One Hawaiian, two pepperoni, and one cheese.”

“Okay,” Daisy said checking all the necessary boxes, “Is that everything?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, I just need a name for the order.”

“It’s Martin and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Martin hung up without waiting for her response. Daisy stared at the receiver for a moment before hanging up herself. It wasn’t the worst call she’d every received but a bit of common courtesy wouldn’t have gone amiss.

She grabbed the slips and moved to the fridge. There were ten large pizza crusts stacked up neatly. She pulled out four and set them out on the counter top beside the pizza oven, placing a slip by each.

Daisy smirked. They could have asked for extra cheese on there, but they didn’t.

If I wasn’t such a ‘scabby yokel’, I would have reminded him.

She nodded to herself, and with that fresh feeling of vindication, she set to work. 

Pulling the bowl of sauce from the fridge, she used the sized ladle to apply the correct amount of sauce to each pizza. Different shops had different standards and practices but Daisy liked ladling sauce from the centre out, pouring in concentric circles until just the edges were bare. She liked to imagine the pizza crust like a canvas, and it was her job to paint a masterpiece every time.

Next, she grabbed the large cheese cup and filled it. She then emptied one cup’s worth of cheese over each pizza, again avoiding the edges before going over it with her gloved hands to make sure the grainy shreds of mozzarella were spread evenly. She was just about to start portioning out ingredients when she considered her previous spite.

Scolding herself, she applied another half cup of cheese to the pepperoni and cheese pizzas. At least she’d know that she had done a good job that way. She grabbed the ham next.

He liked Hawaiian pizzas, too.

Daisy smiled to herself as she remembered Rodney’s regular evening order. A small Hawaiian pizza folded over. He called them ‘calzones’.

Working on the pepperoni, she wondered if he would still come in from time to time to get one. There wasn’t much in town to choose from, pizza-wise.

But if he did what they said he did, they would have banned him from the store.

Daisy slid the first pizza into the faux brick oven.

Had she missed something? He’d never seemed happy, but he hadn’t seemed unstable? There must have been signs she’d missed. If she had noticed, maybe she could have done something.

She’d been the last one to work with him that night. She’d left him alone. She couldn’t even remember if she had even said goodbye.

You were the last person who saw him alive.

Daisy shuddered. She folded her arms and curled in her shoulders.

The email wasn’t enough. I should have talked to him. He probably just needed someone to listen to him. I shouldn’t have left the job for someone else.

I shouldn’t have thought of him as part of the job.

There was a rattling metallic sound from the aisles.  At first, Daisy thought it might have been the door chime, but before she looked up, she turned her eyes back to the oven.

Don’t look.

The noise rang out again, closer this time, accompanied by a light, clacking noise against the linoleum.

Daisy kept her eyes on the oven.

Just wait. He will go away.

As the room filled with the smell of baking pizza, the silence was becoming palpable. 

Tom must have gone for a quick break. He wasn’t walking around or rustling anything. Yet, something was there, just beyond the counter. She could feel it.

It wasn’t real. She knew that. If she just waited a little longer—

The oven timer buzzed.

Daisy jumped out of her skin. Relief flooded her veins. She laughed breathlessly. Her eyes were dry and sore, like she hadn’t blink in minutes.

It was hard to believe that she’d been standing there for ten minutes but when she looked in the oven, the pizzas were done.

Keep it together girl. You don’t want to make the kids worry again.

Daisy sighed in relief before pulling the pizzas out and setting them in boxes. She sliced each into eight pieces and closed the lids. She was greeted each time by the decorative illustration of their little convenience store, nestled at the crossroads.

She left them laid out like that, ready to stack up when gruff Mr. Martin arrived.

A shuffling behind her made her turn.

That would be him.

Daisy looked to find no one. She was still alone in the store.

Of course I am, she thought, tousling her grey hair. The door chime had never gone off.

“For heaven’s sake, woman,” she said under her breath.

She was getting silly in her old age.

But there, just in the corner of her eye, on the bottom shelf of the right-most aisle. A pair of sunglasses was swinging on a hook.

As it swung back and forth, Daisy realised the height meant whatever moved it had to have been moving along the floor, crouched and unseen.

Perhaps he was still with her.

Daisy’s nose crinkled up, and she put her face in her hands.

She just hoped that, this time, she’d be done crying before the customer arrived.