Avery Weston (selfdestructive) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-01-04 12:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | avery, complete, cycle002, teagan |
WHO: Avery and Teagan
WHERE: the gas station
WHEN: December 16 ; late afternoon
WHAT: car pick-up ; dealing with weird mechanics
WARNINGS: TBD
The only thing that had been even slightly unusual about Avery's day had been receiving texts from Tatum Donnelly. He wasn't accustomed to conversing with random teenagers via text, even if they were best friends with his cousin, but whatever. Also, he couldn't have been less interested in whatever issue Teagan Mitchell might have with Mike McBrayer if he'd tried. Beyond that, his work life had been free of intrigue or even interest. That was usually the case for a gas jockey in a podunk town in Oregon.
The inside of the station was redolent with its usual smells of grease and dust, and Avery was parked behind the counter on the ragged stool with the split, cracking upholstery on which he sat on those occasions when he had paperwork to do. Currently he was painstakingly comparing invoices to packing lists, a slight frown on his face; fortunately, they had very little stock coming in, since they didn't sell food or convenience items. The radio he kept behind the counter was blasting a Stones song, and one of his feet wrapped around the stool's metal rungs twitched as if to keep time.
Heaving a mighty sigh, Avery raked his fingers through his hair and paused to scratch his scalp, forcing himself not to tally up how many more hours he had to work today. That never made the time pass any faster. He'd live until he passed the metaphorical torch to the late night attendant and went home to his trailer to nuke a TV dinner. Mick Jagger screamed about honky tonk women, and it was the music that undoubtedly prevented him from hearing the door being opened.