TLDR: Listen Instead

So Melvin came to me with a problem that’s been keeping him up at night.

He said, “There’s something in the supply closet.”

I asked him what he meant, and he said, “I hear sounds. Shuffling. Movement. Sometimes breathing. But every time I open the door, there’s nothing there. Just supplies.”

I told him it was probably just the , or maybe pipes, or the AC unit. But Melvin said, “No. I’ve been documenting this for two months. The sounds happen at specific times. They follow a pattern. And they only happen when nobody’s looking.”

He showed me his spreadsheet. He’s been tracking every sound from the supply closet. Time of day, duration, type of sound, who was in the shop at the time, and whether anyone else heard it. The data is meticulous. And according to Melvin, the sounds happen most frequently between 2pm and 4pm, always when at least two barbers are occupied with customers, and always when nobody’s facing the closet door.

I asked him what he thought was making the sounds, and he said, “I don’t know. But it knows when we’re watching.”

That’s the part that freaked me out. Not that there might be something in the closet. But that it knows when we’re watching.

Melvin said, “I’ve tested it. I stood facing the closet for an hour. Nothing. Complete silence. The moment I turned around, I heard shuffling. I spun back around, opened the door immediately. Nothing. Just towels and shampoo bottles.”

I told him maybe he was imagining it, and he said, “Sam heard it too. Last Thursday. He was cutting hair and he heard something fall in the closet. He went to check. Nothing was out of place. Everything was exactly where it should be.”

Now I’m paying attention to the supply closet. And yeah, I hear it too. Shuffling. Movement. Sometimes what sounds like something being dragged across the floor. But every time I open the door, everything’s normal. Supplies stacked neatly. Nothing disturbed. Nothing out of place.

Melvin’s theory is that whatever’s in there exists in the moments we’re not observing it. He said, “It’s like Schrödinger’s cat, but reversed. It only exists when we’re not looking. The moment we observe it, it collapses into nothing.”

I asked him if that was even possible, and he said, “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

So Melvin set up his phone to record the supply closet. He positioned it so the camera was aimed at the door, hit record, and left it running for six hours while we worked.

At the end of the day, he checked the footage. For the first three hours, nothing. Just a closed door. Then, at 2:47pm, the door handle moved. Just slightly. Like something on the other side was testing it. Then at 3:12pm, the door opened. Just a crack. Not enough to see inside. Just enough to know something opened it. Then at 3:45pm, the door closed again. Slowly. Deliberately.

Melvin said, “Something opened the door from the inside. While we were all working. While customers were here. And none of us noticed.”

I watched the footage. He was right. The door opened. And closed. And none of us saw it happen.

I asked Melvin what he thought was in there, and he said, “I think it’s something that doesn’t want to be seen. Something that only exists in the gaps of our attention. And I think it’s been there the whole time.”

Now I’m terrified of the supply closet. I don’t want to open it. I don’t want to know what’s in there. Because if Melvin’s right, the moment I look, it won’t be there. And that’s somehow worse than if it was.

Melvin’s been leaving the camera running every day now. He’s documenting every time the door moves. Every time something shuffles inside. Every time the handle turns. He’s building a timeline of its behavior.

He said, “I think it’s getting bolder. Last week, the door only opened a crack. Yesterday, it opened halfway. Today, it was fully open for twelve seconds before it closed again.”

I asked him what happens when it stops closing the door, and he said, “I don’t know. But I think we’re going to find out soon.”

One customer asked what was in the supply closet, and Melvin said, “Supplies. And something else. We’re not sure what.” The customer laughed. He thought Melvin was joking. Melvin wasn’t joking.

Yesterday, I had to get towels from the supply closet. I stood in front of the door for a full minute before I could open it. When I finally did, everything was normal. Towels. Shampoo. Cleaning supplies. But I swear I felt something watching me. Not from inside the closet. From behind me. Like whatever was in there had stepped out the moment I opened the door.

I grabbed the towels and closed the door as fast as I could.

Melvin asked me if I felt it, and I said yes. He nodded. He said, “It’s learning. It’s figuring out how to exist when we’re looking. And I don’t think we can stop it.”

So now we just… coexist with it. We hear the sounds. We see the door move on camera. We feel it watching us. But we don’t talk about it with customers. We don’t acknowledge it. Because maybe if we ignore it, it’ll stay in the closet. Maybe if we pretend it’s not there, it won’t become real.

But I have a feeling it’s already real. And it’s just waiting for the right moment to show us.

Here’s What We’re Thinking

Some things are better left in the closet. But your grooming routine shouldn’t be one of them. That’s why we’re offering 25% off all Reuzel products right now. Keep your style sharp and your confidence high, even when you’re not sure what’s watching from the supply room.

Get 25% Off Reuzel Products Now

Visit Venice Barbershop off US 41, next to the courthouse. We’re the only walk-in barbershop offering hot lather shaves. Walk-ins welcome Tuesday–Friday 9am–6pm, Saturday 10am–2pm. The supply closet is fine. Probably. We’re not opening it to check.

Look dapper. Ignore the sounds. (We do.)