The stars were out tonight. The air was crisp. Y'know when it's chilly in the most perfect way?
The smell of clean grass and open country was diluted by the smell of a fire. The heat slowly warmed the outside of my body.
Too bad I couldn't really enjoy it.
The flames engulfed my car completely. It kind of looked like a movie scene. I wish it was.
The reality was that I was stuck outside a gas station, ofcourse it was abandoned, and the only possessions I had were my dead cell phone and $3.75.
The worst part was that I had just filled my tank with gas. Fourty two dollars just burnt away.
Maybe this is like a movie scene. From a horror movie that was 100% cliché.
In my point of view I had two choices.
1. Wait here until another car passes.
This would take multiple hours. I mean it was the open country with only a run down gas station as company. No one drives past these places.
2. Start walking to, hopefully, a close by store. Or home. Or farm. Or anywhere not here.
Before I started my possibly lengthy walk, I noticed something that would make my day a hell of a lot better. Near the back of the gas station, hidden in the dark was a motorcycle. A nice motorcycle.
Someone else had to be here.
As I walked towards it the only thing I thought in my head was, I hope they don't mind visitors.
YOU ARE READING
Only a Little Cliché
RomanceBoxers weren't good boyfriends. That's what was engraved into my brain my entire life, more on that later. So, now I was out of highschool, and on my own. I decided to take a year off of school, traveling as far as I could drive in my car that could...
