Tom watched the register, the harsh light above flickering like it always did when the storm rolled in. Outside, rain hammered the pavement, drumming a dull beat against the pumps. He’d worked at the gas station long enough to know when things didn’t feel right. And when the kid walked in, soaked and hooded, Tom felt it in his bones.

“Help you with something?” Tom asked, his voice steady, though his gut was telling him to be ready. The kid’s eyes darted, his hand slipped inside his jacket. Something was about to go down.

Tom’s pulse quickened, but he stayed calm, his hands still on the counter, fingers spread wide.

“Give me the cash. Now.” The kid’s voice cracked—not from puberty, but from fear, maybe desperation.

Then came the gun.

A small revolver, barely held together by the kid’s shaky grip.

Tom raised his hands, slow and deliberate. “Take it easy. No need to get anyone hurt.”

Sweat ran down the kid’s face, mixing with the rain still dripping from his hoodie. “I said now!”

Tom moved toward the drawer, keeping his movements calm. But as he pulled it open, his body moved before his brain could catch up. In one swift motion, his hand clamped down on the gun, twisting it away. The weapon went off, a deafening crack that echoed in the station.

They wrestled. Arms tangled, slipping and grabbing for control, feet skidding on the slick floor. Then, in the midst of it, something strange hit Tom—a jolt of recognition, like he’d been here before. Not just the scuffle, but the feel of the kid’s jacket, the weight of the gun.

The kid must’ve felt it too. His eyes locked onto Tom’s, not just with fear, but with something else—something unnerving.

“We’ve done this before,” the kid blurted out, his voice tight with confusion.

Tom faltered. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second. Had they? The sense of déjà vu hung in the air, thick and undeniable. The gun clattered to the floor, spinning once before coming to a stop. The kid dove for it, but Tom slammed him against the counter, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

For a second, they just stood there, chests heaving, the sound of rain pounding the windows louder than their breathing. The fight had gone out of both of them, but the weird feeling lingered.

“I know you,” Tom said, though he wasn’t sure why.

The kid blinked, as if searching for the same answer. “Yeah... I know you too.”

They stood frozen, locked in a moment neither could explain. It didn’t make sense, but neither did the rush of familiarity that gripped them both.

Outside, the rain hammered harder. Sirens, faint but closing in, filled the silence. Tom loosened his hold, stepping back. He didn’t have to ask any more questions. The moment had already said everything.