He stopped, about halfway between here and there, at a country gas station. A pretty(ish) girl was working behind the counter. He asked for directions even though he knew were he was going. Her voice was kind of cute if handled in short bursts.
He stopped again, the next year, at the same country gas station. An awful fast food restaurant had been tacked onto the outside, bringing in a fair number of travels on their way from here to there. The pretty(ish) girl was working again. She had highlights in her hair and paint on her fingernails. He asked for directions again just to see. She didn’t remember him. Besides, thanks to the fast food restaurant she had more menial duties than last year and didn’t have time for guys doing guy things.
He stops again a few years later. The country gas station is now flanked by a motel and a 24 hr. breakfast place. It is busy and he gets kind of sad. He decides not to go in to ask for directions because he feels left behind, somehow, even though he probably shouldn’t.
He pays for his gas outside (something he had been unable to do previously).
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