The Comedy Aisle

I decided that if I counted the VHS tapes on the top shelf by spine color, I would feel organized enough to handle the impending chaos of midnight.

Red, blue, green, black. The rhythm was soothing. It was also pointless, because the shop was empty, the air conditioning had been rattling on its death rattle since October, and the only person left in the building was me.

The bell above the door jingled, a sharp, cheerful sound that cut through the hum of the fluorescent lights. Then came the heavy, metallic *click* of the deadbolt sliding home.