The Gas Station

I didn’t get moving around today until around 11:30 this morning. By the time I left the house it was 12:15. “Fck, I’m going to catch the lunch crowd”, was my first thought. I wasn’t in the mood for the crowds I hate so much but I needed gas and my prescriptions. I’ll suffer it out then do nothing the rest of the day. Gas, $1.78 today, $25 filled my Durango up. At one time I was spending $25 a day on gas. This little thing made my voyage into unwanted crowds feel a little better. While I was there and my tank filled, beer sounded good. But, there’s the dark anonymous crowd of people inside. All gathered at the counter to slowly check out their purchase and generally act like they’ve never been in a civilized group before. The talker is in front of me again, why? I don’t want to talk, I don’t want a rewards card, I want to get what I came in for and get out. During this barrage of stimuli, the feeling of being stared at for attention was burning into the left rear of my skull. In a sweating semi-rage I looked back. A girl, a young lady not a kid, had her eyes locked in so tight on mine I thought they’d grown roots into my retinas. Her tomboyish attractiveness made me hold a stare back at her longer than I really wanted too. It went through my mind while I stood in the slowest check-out line from hell, that she is one. It felt like it, the short glancing exchange produced a light blue aura around her, after I thought about it. My $8 wait was over and I walked out to my car. Behind me I hear in a faint voice and I distinctly heard, “Bist Do Doitcha”. It stuck out just by the way the words were pronounced. I looked back and it was the girl from the line. Her pale skin seemed almost iridescent in the sun light. I was caught off guard and answered like country bumpkin, “Huh”? With her baseball hat pulled down covering her eyes she replied, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else”. She acted embarrassed and shy as she looked down and walked away. What I found peculiar was she didn’t buy anything. To come up behind me that fast she had to leave the line she was in. The other thing was the direction she walked into. She walked out to the sidewalk and headed away from the gas station. Without buying anything! But stood in line! Pulling out of the lot, looking both ways to cross traffic, there was no sign of her. There’s only a sidewalk for several hundred yards until it leads to the next closes business. Even running she couldn’t have vanished that quick. After getting my prescriptions I drove back in the direction she walked off in. The several miles it took the road to end, there was no sign of her.


8 responses to “The Gas Station

  1. Your stories are always amazing, Mike. I enjoy so much that you are sharing here.
    ‘Bist Do Doitcha?’ sounds like ‘Bist du Deutscher?’ which means ‘Are you German?’ .
    I don’t know whether that helps to make any more sense of the story. I just thought you might want to know what this sounds like to my German ears.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. now I’m curious…what did she want from you??? And I had the same hit as Karin – seemed like she wanted to know if you were German. Maybe you find some clues in your German ancestry?

    Liked by 1 person

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