Ghassan looked confusedly at the black-robed man who was standing on the other side of the counter. Outside the moon shone over the parking lot.
“I’m sorry sir,” Ghassan said firmly, “but I am working and I cannot leave the store unattended.” He had no idea where men wore that sort of robe, outside of a few movies, and this man’s manner ran nails down a chalkboard in Faisal’s head.
“Not even for your heart’s desire?”
“Sir, I think you should leave now.” Under the counter Ghassan’s long, brown fingers made a protective sign his superstitious grandmother had taught him.
The robed man stumbled backwards, looked startled, and left.