The boy with the strange eyes came in on Tuesday.

He was always in before six, after the 64 arrived from downtown. He was never on the bus, but he came in right after it, like clockwork, every Tuesday. Every week, he bought the same things: tuna, Wonder Bread, milk, and, on the off chance he had the money, pork chops too.

He rarely had the money.

It had gotten to the point that she almost asked for Tuesdays off; she would have, if she hadn’t needed the money so badly, and if his eyes hadn’t grabbed hers from the moment he’d walked into Hobart’s that first Tuesday in January. His eyes were unnerving, haunted, dark shadows rimming the pale irises that always seemed to change— blue, then gray, then green depending on his mood; drooping or open wide depending on which drug swam through his veins.

This particular Tuesday, the drug of choice was speed. The indicators glared out at her through bloodshot, dilated eyes; his erratic, hasty movements were confirmation enough. She watched him enter and almost trip on the mat at the door. His short, jerky steps were unsuited to his long, thin legs. His hand shook as he grabbed one of their shopping baskets; the other was stuffed in his pocket.

She watched him until he disappeared down the bread aisle, and was so focused on waiting for him to reappear on canned foods that she didn’t notice the customer in front of her until she heard the polite throat-clearing. She apologized and rang the old lady up, still waiting for him to emerge from the canned food aisle.

She didn’t only watch him because Mr. Burke worried about shoplifters. The boy both scared her and fascinated her, and she liked following him with her eyes as he walked around the store with that halting walk, those choppy movements. He was outside of her world, a breach of the suburban normalcy she’d grown up with. There was nothing familiar in his scraggly blond hair, or in the patches of stubble that grew up on his cheeks, or in those eyes.

She smiled at old lady— who had changed her mind at the register, and decided not to get two heads of lettuce, but just the one, and decided against the tomato soup all together— and handed back her change, then ducked under the counter to store the unwanted items till closing.

As she rose, the first thing her eyes met was a loaf of Wonder Bread, being placed carefully down by calloused, long fingered hands. She started, but then stood the rest of the way up and swallowed hard. He was staring at her, and without looking away, he put the two cans of tuna down beside the bread. She didn’t have to wonder where his milk money went.

She scanned the items quickly, trying not to meet his gaze. "Five seventeen," she said quietly. He gave her six crumpled dollar bills and she shoved them into their place in her drawer.

His lips cracked into a sickly smile as she handed him his change; he stuffed it in his pocket with a quick, "Thanks, Libby."

She didn’t know what his name was. She just nodded with a polite smile, and he ducked out of the grocery after snatching up his purchases. She watched him walk away until her next customer came up, and even after that, kept one eye trained on the skinny form that drifted into the darkness.