It started on a cold, ordinary night—at least, that’s what I told myself. At 8:00 p.m., I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for another graveyard shift. The night air bit at my skin as I slipped into my car and headed down the empty road to work. The hum of the engine and the glow of distant streetlights were the only signs of life.
I arrived a little early, as usual. As I walked through the front doors, I passed the office supply aisle and spotted my coworker, Jason. He was stocking a box of pens on the top shelf. I can still see him—his back slightly hunched, wearing his usual dark hoodie and jeans.
“Hey, Jason,” I said. “You’re here early.”
He glanced down and smiled. “Yeah, figured I’d get a head start.”
I didn’t think much of it and continued to the back of the warehouse where the time clock was. The breakroom was quiet—just the distant hum of machines in receiving. But as I rounded the corner, my blood ran cold.
Jason was there. Standing in front of the time clock. Wearing his coat.
I froze, trying to make sense of it. I had just seen him in office supplies. There was no way he could’ve gotten here before me—especially not without passing me in the narrow aisles.
I forced a laugh, trying to shake the chill creeping down my spine. “How’d you beat me back here? I just talked to you up front.”
Jason gave me a confused look. “What? I just got here—I haven’t even clocked in yet.”
I wanted to press him, to explain what I had seen, but before I could, I noticed Larry and Kevin standing at the back of the line, watching me. Their expressions were unreadable, but their silence made my skin crawl. I shook my head, chalking it up to exhaustion. Night shifts will do that to you, I figured.
But the next night was worse.
I was running a couple of minutes late. As I passed through receiving, I saw Jason again. He was grabbing a pallet jack, the wheels squeaking faintly as he pulled it free. I called out a quick, “Hey, man,” and he waved back.
When I got to the breakroom to clock in, I didn’t think twice—until the manager called us all to the front of the warehouse for a meeting.
“Is everyone here?” he asked, scanning the group.
Larry glanced around before shaking his head. “Jason’s not here yet.”
I blinked in confusion. “Yeah, he is—I just saw him in receiving. He should be here any second.”
Kevin frowned. “No, he’s not. He hasn’t clocked in.”
I opened my mouth to argue when the front door swung open. Jason rushed inside, breathless. “Sorry, I’m late! I’ll go clock in.”
The room was dead silent, all eyes on me. I could feel Larry and Kevin staring again, but this time, I had no explanation—not even for myself.
By the third night, I told myself it was all in my head. Stress. Lack of sleep. But part of me wanted to know—would it happen again?
It did.
I arrived on time and saw him from a distance—Jason, pulling a pallet jack from receiving. I kept walking, biting my tongue. This time, I didn’t say a word. When I reached the breakroom, there he was again—his coat still on—waiting to clock in.
I didn’t tell anyone. What would I even say? That I’d been seeing the same man in two places at once? That somehow, he was both here and not here?
For years, I pushed the memory aside. But no matter how much time passed, the question gnawed at me.
What did I see?
A glitch in reality? A shadow of the future? Or something else entirely?
I may never know the answer—but I do know this: since those nights, I always glance over my shoulder. Because sometimes, the people you see… might not really be there.
