A week passes, but the cold front doesn't. It's colder than ice cubes in Antarctica tonight at the station. With light, unexpected snow falling, the only car present in the parking lot is Left's. It is Friday night and about ten minutes before he has to start closing up shop. The thought that has been running laps in his head since the day he was hired, seemed to be back for another track meet. How do they afford to pay me. No one had been in the store in the past two hours. By this time, Left is starting to go Stir Crazy, just like Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder in the early 80s.
While Left contemplates leaving early, headlights begin to peek through the sparkling clean store front window. Of course someone would come in Right before I leave, Left says out loud to the always listening but never talking fountain drink machine.Hey, you've got to talk to something when no one is around, only logical, he thinks.
After, what seems like an extended waiting time for the person to enter the store, Left gets curious and looks out at the newly arrived car. He doesn't recognize the small black Honda, nor the driver, at least at first sight. All he can see is what looks like paper towels or tissues covering the face of the occupant. He catches a glimpse of eyes and long hair, and now the obvious embarrassed Amber slowly gets out of the car. As she stumbles toward the gas station like an old sea captain, and her head almost staring a hole into the ground, Left figures she might of had one two many drinks at the bars that are about twenty minutes away. This small pit stop would probably include something to eat and a bit of mumbled speech, or so the phlegmatic gas station attendant hoped.
While Left contemplates leaving early, headlights begin to peek through the sparkling clean store front window. Of course someone would come in Right before I leave, Left says out loud to the always listening but never talking fountain drink machine.Hey, you've got to talk to something when no one is around, only logical, he thinks.
After, what seems like an extended waiting time for the person to enter the store, Left gets curious and looks out at the newly arrived car. He doesn't recognize the small black Honda, nor the driver, at least at first sight. All he can see is what looks like paper towels or tissues covering the face of the occupant. He catches a glimpse of eyes and long hair, and now the obvious embarrassed Amber slowly gets out of the car. As she stumbles toward the gas station like an old sea captain, and her head almost staring a hole into the ground, Left figures she might of had one two many drinks at the bars that are about twenty minutes away. This small pit stop would probably include something to eat and a bit of mumbled speech, or so the phlegmatic gas station attendant hoped.
