Monday. The day retail workers braced themselves for the same old grind.
Edward clocked in at 8:01 a.m., already feeling the dull ache in his legs from the long hours that would stretch ahead. It wasn't that the work was hard. It was the monotony. A thousand little tasks, endless customers, and bad pop music on repeat.
Darren, the manager, stood at the front of the store, arms crossed, scanning the sales floor. His eyes barely glanced over as Edward passed by.
"Aisle 5, Edward. Paper products. We're almost out."
"Got it," Edward replied, moving toward the backroom.
As he pushed through the aisles, something felt different. It wasn't loud or obvious, just... a small shift in the air. The store was busier than usual for a Monday, but that wasn't all. The carts. They were piled higher than normal with the usual suspects—bleach, paper towels, toilet paper—but something about it seemed off. Not panicked, but preemptive.
Edward grabbed a pack of paper towels and continued down the aisle. Near the cleaning supplies, a man was checking the stock of disinfecting wipes. He didn't even glance at Edward as he stood there, hands hovering over the shelf like he wasn't sure what he was looking for.
"You'd think it was last flu season again," Edward said, trying to start a conversation. "Wipes seem to be moving fast today."
The man gave a short nod, his expression blank. "Yeah. It's that new flu. You know, the one that's been going around. They say it's hitting harder this year. My wife's been in bed all weekend, fevers, aches. They say it's a bad strain."
"Right," Edward said, eyes flicking to the other customers, who were stocking up as well. Just like last year. Just like any flu season. Nothing new. He gave the man a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hear it's going around early this year."
The man only nodded again, picked up a pack of disinfectant wipes, and walked off.
As the morning passed, more customers were in the aisles, pushing carts piled high with supplies. It wasn't a panic, but it was a little... more than usual. More people buying multiple bottles of hand sanitizer, more packs of cold medicine stacked in carts like it was some sort of prepper convention. The buzz in the air felt like the buildup to another season of sick days. Edward had seen it before, but this time, it seemed like the concern was a bit more... widespread.
At the pharmacy, a woman was picking through a shelf of cold medications, eyeing the limited stock. When Edward passed, she gave him a nod.
"Getting that time of year," she said, reaching for a bottle. "You know, this new flu strain's been kicking people around. My son had it last week, and my mom's got it now. Just can't seem to shake it this time."
Edward shrugged. "Yeah, the flu's been weird lately."
She chuckled, a little too loud. "Weird's one way to put it. My cousin's in the ER right now. They said it was bad for him—he's in his sixties, though. Some people just get hit harder than others."
"Yeah, the older folks always seem to take it harder." Edward smiled, though it felt more like a nervous tic. He kept his eyes on the shelves, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Around noon, the store felt like it was stuck in a loop. The same customers, the same questions. The occasional reminder that things were just a little off.
One woman, standing in front of the cleaning aisle, was arguing with an employee about limits on cold medicine. Edward overheard as he passed.
"She's just... exhausted. The cough came on really quick," the woman was saying. "I know it's just a flu, but you think they'd be limiting things like this—just because of how many people are getting hit by it."
"I get it," the employee said, halfheartedly, "but it's just the seasonal flu. Everyone's just stocking up early this year."
"Maybe," she said, but there was a pause, like she wasn't entirely convinced. She sighed, looking at the shelves. "Everything's been moving fast. I'm just making sure."
By 3:00 p.m., Edward was feeling the weight of the day. He didn't mind the work—it was the same as always. It was the vibe of the store. He noticed more people checking their temperatures in the aisles, a few people coughing quietly into their sleeves. Nothing dramatic, but it was there. The subtle signs.
Near the front, a man in his thirties was speaking with a cashier, a bottle of cough syrup in his hand.
"Doc said it's just a bad strain," the man was saying. "He told me to stay in, but I needed to grab something for my son. He's been up all night."
The cashier nodded politely. "Yeah, it's been going around a lot this year. I've had a sore throat for a week now."
"Nothing new, right?" the man laughed, though it didn't sound quite right. "Same thing every season."
"Yeah, but this one's a little worse," the cashier muttered, rubbing his throat absently. "I've had a few people at work drop out. Feels like more than the usual flu season."
Edward moved through the store, trying to shake the feeling of... being caught in a moment. Everyone was acting like it was just another flu season. But there was something off in the way people were buying things. Like they were expecting more than just the usual discomfort of winter illnesses.
By the time he finished his shift, the store had cleared out. The evening air was colder than usual, a sharp breeze cutting through his jacket as he made his way to the parking lot.
Before he could head to his car, he noticed a woman standing by the entrance, her arms crossed tightly. She looked like she had been waiting for someone, but when she saw him, her eyes flicked down to the bottles of cough syrup in her hands.
"Cold season's starting up," she said, her voice hoarse. "I just hope it doesn't get worse this time."
Edward nodded, glancing at the shelves one last time, still half-empty. "Yeah, we'll see."