The early morning silence in the gas station is unbearable. It makes even the low hum of the fridge against the back wall feel like a jackhammer on my ears. My eyes glaze over cans of coffee in black and white and every imaginable shade of brown, searching for something to get me through the next ten hours. An unsweetened black cold brew should do the trick. I open the frosty glass door and reach toward the back of the fridge to get the coldest one. Only then do I catch a glimpse of something bright pink screaming for my attention behind the cans.

Curious, I push them aside and pull out a bubblegum-colored milk carton. On the front is a drawing of a smiling cat with a milk mustache. It’s a carton of Miyabi Strawberry Milk. I can’t remember the last time I saw one of these at a store. Not since I was a kid, I think. Has it really been that long? I turn the carton over, looking for the expiration date. There isn’t one. Then I notice the picture printed on the side, under the word “MISSING.”

My eyes are still half-shut, but I recognize my old denim jacket covered in pins and my aviators with the blue lenses. I remember laughing with my friends from school on the curb outside the arcade while one of them snapped the photo. Didn’t I leave this in my room at my parents’ house? Why is it on here? I haven’t gone missing. I go to work every day and then I go home. It’s been that way for years now. When did I disappear?

Behind me, the cashier clears his throat. I check my watch. Ten minutes have already passed. With a sigh, I shove the milk carton back in the fridge, taking a coffee and shutting the door. I need to get to work.

Alyson Floyd is an artist, writer and director from Houston. She is currently studying graphic design and writing her first novel.