She'd taken the job on a whim to make a little money before college started again in the fall. The nearest city was 30 minutes away, so they had a lot of people stop at the station.
And she knew that it'd be interesting, getting to see everyone who pass through their slow Podunk town.
During the past month, she'd created a little game to help her pass the long days. With every new car that pulled up, she tried to guess a little about the person driving it. She'd seen every type flying up the highway, stopping in for gas or snacks before taking off again to see the world.
On a relatively quiet day, she glanced out the window and saw a jet-black car – something old and she had to admit, pretty cool looking. She had seen one like it on some of those old black and white TV ads. The places it had seen and the stories it had to tell would have to be a lot more fascinating than sitting behind the counter at a gas station all day.
Old school car…well cared for…in perfect condition. Probably some middle-aged wealthy guy, starting to bald with graying hair. Probably in excellent shape from tennis or golf with the associates from his business.
The car rumbled into the lot, pulling up to the pumps. The driver's side door opened and a man stepped out. A young man. He didn't look any older than she was. And he was built, though there was something about the way he moved that made her doubt that he'd ever held a tennis racquet or been on a golf cart.
As he stepped out into the sun, he rubbed his hands over his face. Maybe it was an attempt to wake up. He looked worn and tired as he started pumping gas into his car but the man riding shotgun said something that made him laugh. His whole face lit up into a smile.
He's not gay is he?
As he made his way into the station, she giggled a little at his bowed legs. She had sure done a shitty job of on this prediction.
He wandered around the store, quickly grabbing a Mountain Dew, M&Ms, and a bag of Funyuns. He moved quickly, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. Up close, she could tell his leather jacket was old and scratched. It had stories to tell, too.
Who wears leather in Oklahoma in July??
He moved up to the register, his arms full of junk food. He flashed a grin that didn't reach his eyes, making him appear even more tired.
What would his mother think?
"Been driving a long time?" she asks.
He looks at her for a minute before answering. "My whole life." He reaches down and grabs his food.
As he heads out the door, she thinks again that she couldn't have been more wrong when she saw that car pull up.
I wonder what stories he has to tell.