Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

At least he tried to.
It didn’t work.
He also tried to grab the man by the face with the same amount of success.
Wallace recoiled when his thumb went into the man’s eye. “This is so
stupid,” he muttered. He turned toward the woman in the back, still staring at
the coolers. He went to her without much hope. She didn’t hear him. She
didn’t see him. Instead, she picked out a two-liter of Mountain Dew.
“That’s disgusting,” he told her. “You should feel ashamed. Do you even
know what’s in that?”
But his opinion went unnoticed.
The automatic doors slid open, and Wallace ducked down when the clerk
said, “Hey, Hugo. You’re out late.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Hugo said. “Thought I’d pick a few things up.”
Wallace tried to lean against a shelf of potato chips. He cursed when he
fell back through them, blinking rapidly as he was inside the shelf. He jerked
forward, ready to flee when the doors slid open again. He froze when the
man behind the counter said, “Hey, Mei. Can’t sleep either?”
“You know how it is,” Mei said. “Boss man’s up, so that means I’m up
too.”
The man could see her.
He could see her.
Which meant—
Wallace had no idea what that meant.
Before he could even begin to process this new information, a curious
thing happened: bits of dust floated up around him.
He frowned at them, watching as they rose before his face, heading
toward the ceiling. The motes of dust were oddly colored, almost flesh-like.
He reached out to touch a rather large flake, but his hand froze when he saw
where the dust was coming from.
His own arms.
His skin was flaking off, bit by bit, the top layer of derma floating up and
away.
He yelped as he furiously brushed his arms.
“Got you,” Mei said, appearing beside him. And then, “Oh crap. Wallace,
we have to get you—”
He leapt forward toward the coolers.