A Night At The Museum
Something moved. I could have sworn that I saw something move from the periphery of my eyes but turning around to inspect it, nothing seemed to be out of place.
Nothing except the glass box that was at the entrance of the museum. That had not been there before, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if it was there.
“Bryan!” I called out to the guy in his late 40s with whom I ran night shifts. When I had first taken up this job, I had been scared to run night...
