(So it begins.)
@Asternove
The last customer to visit came in nearly two hours ago, a middle aged labrador woman who loudly complained about the no returns policy. The clock is nearly at 9PM. The store, a small discount clothing store, somehow doesn't close for another hour, your shift end two hours away.
Your manager, a 20-something year old goat named Kate, left for a smoke break half an hour ago, leaving you alone.

ty radio pop plays faintly over the speakers. You can hear the steady tick of the clock, each second a second closer to being able to go home.
@Lin Xueqing @Orchamut
The West Hill Food Court is a large circular atrium, tables of varying sizes surrounded by various restaurants. Only two restaurants are still open at this hour, a small, quiet McDonalds manned by only three people, and a Chinese restaurant, from where the busy sounds of the kitchen continues to echo throughout the food court.
The tables are slightly greasy, with leftover paper bags and rubbish littering the area. A wet floor sign warns of spilt pepsi on the tile floor, which has long since dried up into a sticky puddle.
Up above, a scarlet glass sculpture hangs from the skylight. A massive serpent snaking around the ceiling. It was commissioned a while back by a local megachurch, a representation of God's love and protection. During sunrise and sunset, the entire room is covered in a red tint. God's protection.
@Fluxxation
The underground car park is bathed in fluorescent light, yet the deepest corners remain shrouded in darkness. Broken glass litters the floor, of which your car tyre has become a victim to. The car park feels massive yet lonely, with only a handful of other empty cars visible. Yet you are not alone, as you hear echos of laughter and shattering glass nearby.