A late night in 1983, the diner was silent except for the old radio playing 'Video Killed the Radio Star' by The Buggles and the occasional sound of cars going to the gas station right next to the small restaurant. The only thing left to do was clean up the floors and then the worker could finally go home, it was long drive but he was used to it so it wouldn't be an issue even if his coworker would always give him lectures on how it was bad for him and that he should simply book a room at the nearby motel whenever he worked the night shift.

But right when he had finished, the lights turned off, a sigh left his lips and he dropped the mop to the floor — it wasn't unusual for it to happen so nothing to worry about, right. He wiped his hand on the mustard yellow apron that looked like it had been through war and to grab the flashlight that was always kept here in case of emergency, he had to go through the backroom to get to the electric meter that was outside so that's what he did, not bothering with locking the doors, figuring no one would come in anyways and since no one was there, no worries.

Or so he thought, he went back inside and made his way to the door to get back to the main part of the restaurant but it didn't open, weird, he forced a bit, considering that it was an old building, it might've been time to change the door handles but it didn't even budge.

He cursed under his breath, his heart rate starting to rise, he hadn't locked the door — in fact he was sure he hadn't locked it. That's when he heard a soft giggle and turned around to see a man, probably in his twenties, erupt from behind the lockers. "Boo!" The man let out, startling him who was looking at him with wide, scared eyes, already forcing onto the handle. "Oh come on...you look like you just saw a ghost." Another manic giggle escaped the man's lip who pulled out a small set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. "Next time don't forget them on the counter." He wiggled them in front of his face with an amused grin.