The gas station was still just a small matchbox in the distance.

The sign just outside of Merkittsville warned her that it was the “last stop for 80 miles for gas” but she figured she had more than enough to get through.  She looked down and saw the little red gauge was still above “E.”  Besides, she did not like the look of Merkittsville or especially the men in the diner that kept staring at her.  She knew those kinds of looks.  She grew up with them.  They always started as nothing more than stares that lasted a little too long and then it was a walk over and some dumb flirty comment about her red hair and then it was her outside by her car pushing some hands away.


It was best to stay on the road.


She thought she had enough in the tank to make it 80 miles.  But it was close.  The gas station was getting nearer but she could almost imagine running out of gas and having to walk the last half mile in the dark with a gas can in hand.

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)