In the summer of 2019, I worked the 11-to-7 shift at Palisades Grocery, a 24-hour convenience store on a lonely stretch of Route 17 in upstate New York. Nothing ever happened until the night the camera picked up something that wasn't there. It started with a woman in a yellow raincoat, standing at the end of the canned-vegetable aisle, even though the parking lot was empty and the motion-sensor hadn't triggered. The footage was grainy, black-and-white, time-stamped 3:14 AM. But the store had no one in it but me, and I was watching the security feed from behind the counter. By the fourth night, the figure was closer, and I started to feel a cold draft from the freezer aisle every time the clock hit 3:14. This is a story about what happens when a place holds onto a moment so tightly that the moment starts to happen again. I'm not sure it ever stopped.

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