“I’m looking for a book on demonic possession.”

Betsy plastered on a smile. The customer wore a faded overcoat in the dead of summer. His gray hair was thinning at the top and stuck out all over.

“I think we have some in the religion section, second aisle from the back,” she replied in her friendliest voice.

“Do you think someone can be possessed and not know it?” he continued. “I need a book about that.”

“If we have it,” she said, “I think it would be in the religion section.” He cleared his throat with a gurgling cough and left her at the information desk.

Hours later, her shift almost over, she noticed he was still there. Almost as soon as her eyes fell on him, he seemed to shake off some kind of trance and started for the door, empty-handed.

She sort of felt bad for him. “Good luck!” she called after his retreating form.

He stopped and glanced back at her. She thought his eyes went black for a fraction of a second, whites and all. “Good luck,” he repeated. “That’s… interesting.” And then he left.