I’m sitting in my car next to the gas pump listening to the hard rain. It’s falling in that way that sounds like rolling pebbles. I can hear engines murmuring nearby and a man chattering violently on his phone about how people give you looks when you buy less than $5 in gasoline.
I got hooked on the smell of gas when I was a kid. I have to make a conscious effort not to breathe it in when I’m fueling up. I sit in my car to avoid my addiction as the numbers roll up. My car smells stale and a little bit like coffee.
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