Credits to Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark
Thursday nights, Jim worked as a stock boy in one of the malls out on the highway. By eight thirty, he was usually finished, and he drove home. But that night, Jim was one of the last to leave.
By the time he got out to the huge parking lot, it was almost empty. The only sounds were cars in the distance, and his footsteps on the pavement. Suddenly, a man stepped out of the shadows.
"Hey, mister," he called in a low voice. He held out his right hand, and balanced on the palm, was the long thin blade of a knife. Jim stopped. "Nice, sharp knife," the man said softly.
Don't panic, Jim thought, don't run, Jim told himself.
"Nice, sharp knife," the man repeated.
Give him what he wants, Jim thought.
The man came closer. He held the knife up. "Cuts nice and easy," he said slowly.
Jim waited. The man peered into his face.
"Hey, man, only three dollars to five. Nice present for your mama."
"No thanks," Jim said, "she's got one." He ran for his car.