Michael turned toward the wall of cold drinks and stopped. A boy, maybe ten years old, was standing in his path, staring straight at him with that same unsettling blank gaze he’d seen on the people in the car at the chicken restaurant.

Abruptly, the boy spun on his heels and walked in the other direction, disappearing around the bread shelf. Michael took a deep breath, wondering if he should get out of there.

No.

He was sick of running. He was the First, after all. Right? If there were Tangents in the store, they could just look on and admire from afar. He wanted a snack and something to drink, and that was that. He walked to the first panel of drinks, the many flavors and combinations flashing across the glass in silly animations. Michael moved to the second panel, then the third. There he saw some weird combo of grape and pomegranate with a shot of caffeine and chose it. A whoosh and a puff of mist later and his drink—ice-cold in a tube of ReSike—appeared in the dispenser.

As he picked it up, he glanced to his left. A man stood there, his hand frozen halfway to the shelf in front of him to pick up a candy bar. He was clearly watching Michael out of the corner of his eye, but he went about his business as soon as he realized he’d been spotted. Michael quickly looked in the other direction, sure a woman had been staring at him before jerking her head away. Then the boy appeared again, gave Michael a long, lingering look, and walked on.

Michael shook it off. He headed straight for the spot where the man had gotten his candy bar and grabbed the exact same brand, giving the stranger a wink and a smile as he did so.

“I feel like someone’s knocking around in my head,” he said to the man, who gave him a worried look. “Sometimes I’m just not myself. Candy helps. You?”

The man turned and hurriedly walked away.

Michael wondered if maybe he’d finally snapped from the stress.

He grabbed another candy bar, a bag of bleu chips, and some beef jerky, then headed for the cashier. His thoughts were a cyclone—it felt like he could no longer tell the difference between a casual glance and a glare. Who was watching him? Who wasn’t? Who might just be wondering how one person could need all that junk food?