Morning Shift
       “Have a good morning.” Anthony said, hoping that was his last customer for the shift. 
Overnights manning the local gas station’s convenience store were the only job left for him for the low 
traffic that migrated off the Midwest interstate highway. He indulged in the quiet after-hours peace, 
never having to deal with the daytime rush. A perk to working at the smaller establishment: the caravan 
of commercial trucks and out-of-towners preferred stopping at the known national chains that crowded 
the off-ramps.
       But dawn was approaching. Anthony felt it with trembling fingers and an itch on his neck. He 
glanced between the cluttered, large windows at the brightening navy sky. Morgan was supposed to 
take over after him; instead she was taking her time showing up. ‘Five minutes, tops!’ she had texted 
the group chat. He checked the display on the cash register, catching the time roll over to four exactly. 
He was cutting it close. 
 	It took a week of effort turning his basement room into a locked sanctuary for himself under the 
noses of his day-worker roommates. A well-kept secret space his entire body craved. He drummed his 
fingers on the glass above the scratch-offs, trying not to pace the space inside the circular counter. 
Anthony centered his breath, his hand automatically running through his bouffant black curls. He 
scanned the store for something to do; something to distract him from his co-worker’s absence, his 
thoughts, and the approaching sunrise.
       While straightening the shelves of chocolates and candy, Anthony saw a sleek convertible slide 
up to the pumps. Teeth clenched, he wanted to bang on the glass and scream for them to dive off. 
Professionalism in-tact, he returned to his post and made the mistake of checking the time. Nearly a 
half-hour had passed and he was still here, in his gray and blue uniform.
       Anthony watched the driver: a wiry woman athletically dressed. He prayed they would pay 
outside and be on their way. He added that Morgan would come from the backroom and manage the 
store on her own, freeing Anthony until later tonight. 
       The electronic chime shattered Anthony’s crafted fable. The customer waved to Anthony who 
nodded back. As she browsed through the aisles, Anthony avoided staring at their snaking path going to 
each bag of candy, magazine, and bottled. He had a room waiting for him, one clock-out and a short 
drive at 10-over the speed limit, Anthony would be safe and stored before daybreak. But there he went, 
clinging to a tale to avoid his shivering, anxious mind and body.
       “Good morning!” Despite his rising temperature, Anthony greeted with his standard, customer 
service smile when the sole customer came up with her few items. While he rang them up, and 
retrieved a pack of menthols from behind the glass, the woman tried to make small talk with him. Did 
you just start? Oh overnight, but isn’t SO dead? I guess nothing wrong with a quiet night. By the way, 
pretty eyes, contacts?
       His striking gold eyes caught compliments weekly, yet the deep tan of his face blushed, 
betraying his subdued, “Thank you.” Anthony tried to cover himself, “Uh, sorry! Just tired, you know. 
Been a long night, actually.” 
       He opened the register to break the bill he was given, and while retrieving the change, the 
nickels and dimes escaped his shaking grasp. His facade clattered on the floor with the coins. Crouched, 
he felt the heat of embarrassment and from the anxiety of time slipping like change through his fingers. 
It was too early and he needed to leave. 
       A familiar voice startled him, “Okay! Sorry I’m late!” Morgan did the top button of her uniform 
and she wished the customer a farewell good morning once she had her money. And when they were 
alone, she looked at her exhausted coworker, “Woah, are you feeling okay? She gave you that much 
trouble?”
       “No, I’m fine!” Anthony said quickly, knowing how unconvinced his slick brow and short breaths 
were. He squeezed past her before any other questions arose, “See you tomorrow!” 
       He didn’t waste a second swiping his badge to punch-out. He ran to his car in the back, one hand 
trying to undo the shirt. He gave in and tore off the top. Finally, he released his breath; the chilly dawn 
soothed his nerves through his undershirt as much as it terrified him. The sun hadn’t risen, but it was 
too bright out. He’d be lucky to make it home in time.
       Anthony sped down the freeway passing the fields and roadside woodlands. His mind focused 
on the task at hand and not feed the climbing urge to escape into those still-dark primal places. His 
asphalt-laid path back to would be fast enough provided it wasn’t already congested with early morning 
commuters. The horror of being stuck in traffic was a reality he’d endured once with fellow drivers 
baffled at the monster behind the wheel. The hour turned over and rays of golden light would be on the 
horizon soon. His best laid plan, wasted.
       His car swerved onto the shoulder. New plans took form. A truck and two cars passed him with 
more coming down the road. Witnesses he didn’t want. Quickening huffs were all that escaped his 
mouth as he grabbed his button up and took the keys. Snap decisions were made as the morning peeked 
over the horizon and reflected off the skybound ice crystals. This rainbow-colored phenomenon made 
the blood soar in his veins.
       He stashed the uniform, his undershirt and keys beneath the car and he turned to the farmland 
fields, a slope away to hide the strange feelings welling within him. Anthony jumped the short wire 
fence of the highway, slipping and tumbling the small hill toward the crops. The first rays finally hit him, 
warming his torso. 
       The flame was lit, and he felt his legs burning. The bones and musculature changed right from 
under him. They became leaner, stronger, and more adept for running. He still struggled toward the 
plants. His toenails sharpened into claws and with his looser pants, Anthony wished he’d left his shoes 
back at the car. 
       Not yet concealed by the crops, he had to free himself. Anthony dropped to the tall grass and 
tried to pry his feet out without destroying the material. An impossible task, he found. Anthony threw 
the rubber and fabric remains aside, thanking his past-self for keeping an extra pair of clothes in the 
backseat. The morning sun had washed over him, spurring the rest of his body to transform. Anthony 
sucked in a breath and on padded paws he sprinted to cover. His face and ears itched, and his neck 
prickled as black hair grew down his spine and claimed his shoulders. He threw himself into the stalks of 
corn landing in a crunch onto the dried husks. The real pain came from the continuing changes. Anthony 
dug his clawed fingers into the soil, bracing as his backbone extended into a tail and dense fur sprouting 
in uneven patches along him. 
       Anthony thought of the soft bed and restraints and the Bluetooth speaker he had bought for 
this, so he wouldn’t be gritting his teeth on the crinkling earth beneath him and going deaf as the 
cartilage in his ears shifted and his face stretched into a wolfish point. Tiny whiskers burst from his lip 
and lethal fangs lined his gums. In a final yarp, the wolfman was left gasping for air. 
       In the bright morning light, he crawled out from the stalks of corn. His senses had recovered and 
heightened. Hearing the speeding rubber and a chasing siren, his lupine nose drank the scents around 
him. Past the dew-wet leaves of grain crops was car exhaust, pinecones and their bed of needles, and 
the much closer musk of a deer. Determined and hungry, Anthony dashed off for it, excited to sink his 
claws and work his jaw on fresh venison on his morning shift.