i never liked gas stations as a kid. the amount of weird individuals was alarming and the reek of piss and weed didn't help much. every time i would go into the miniature market I would grasp my mother's hand so tightly that she started to lose circulation. the cashiers never responded to my toothless grins and smiles. they were immune to the beauty of innocence. sadly, i would lose mine soon. as the years passed, i began to hate gas stations for an entirely different reason. the weird individuals were exchanged for older men that called at me, yelling on about how they loved their girls young. the stench of piss and weed remained, but scents of desperation and pedophilia started to linger. instead of holding my mother close to me, my hand wrapped around my car keys as i prayed that i wouldn't have to use them as weapon. on the bright side, the cashiers finally began to smile at me - or my boobs rather. it's not relevant though. i'll never like gas stations.
- t.h.