The service station remains empty as The Shape leaves the restroom and turns the corner to walk past the ice machine.
On the transistor radio in the small office, a man with a deep voice gives a weather report accompanied by Halloween-themed sound effects: shrieks, chains rattling, creaking doors…
The sound fades as The Shape takes a direct path to the black rental car at the self-service pump. In the backseat, The Shape sees a storage box with a binder, folders, newspaper clippings and photos—some of The Shape. None of these items interest The Shape.
Using the tall man’s keys, The Shape opens the trunk of the car and finds another box, opens the flaps and pauses, staring down.
The Shape’s hands reach into the box, gripping the Mask between them, lifting it close enough to smell, staring into the eye holes. The Shape turns the Mask around, lifts it overhead, pulls it down, fitting it into place… Perfect.
The Shape breathes…
Complete again.