To Hell and Back for You

Chapter 3: Sympathy

My heart rate picked up again as I made a soft right into the town. This was quite an adventure for me after so long in the depressed isolation of my apartment. I had expected there to be a gas station or rest stop soon following the ramp, but I found myself driving several miles further before I finally reached anything, which happened to be a small convenience store. 

I drove into the gravel lot and parked just in front of the wooden shop where there was room for perhaps five vehicles in total though there was only one present besides me. I quickly hopped out to study the area around. The road for as far as I could see in either direction was barren save for sparing greenery.

Although I wasn't completely into the place yet, I was getting serious ghost town vibes. Standing in position momentarily, taking in the new atmosphere, I witnessed a quiet which greatly added to that feeling. Eyes darting around nervously, I commanded my heart to calm so that I could face whoever I might with strength.

Having collected myself, I stepped toward the door and began pushing, finding it a harder task than anticipated for such an old building. It was made of a steel frame and glass so thick it must have been bulletproof. Guess it had been updated recently. Stepping through the threshold, I caught the attention of the shopkeep.

He was an older gentleman sitting low behind the counter, reading a newspaper. He glanced up and nodded a 'hello' to which I smiled and nodded back directly before he returned to his reading.

At the rear of the store, I found a soda behind a raggedy fridge door, then on my way back, grabbed a bag of original flavored potato chips. Outside of the entrance, it seemed that the building was at least as ancient as its owner. The inside structures were entirely wooden as were the shelves.

The freezers at the back were bulky and one was apparently leaking. When I reached the front counter, I was surprised to see that the man had remained on the short stool, face barely level with the counter before him.

"Good afternoon," I smiled, hoping to get his attention.

Lazily tilting his head backward, he looked up at me and cleared his throat. I couldn't tell if he was scowling or if age had just settled into the lines on his face. I kept my pleasant demeanor as he folded the newspaper and set it to the side. The moment I put my items down, he began to type into the register.

"Six-eighty-one," the man came to the total quickly.

For one fucking can of soda and a snack pack of chips? I complained to myself, pulling out my wallet, "Do you take cards?"

He pursed his lips, vision narrowed as if he were deciding in that instant if he was alright with debit, "Ten dollar minimum," he said at last.

I glanced to the side, spotting a display of lighters without a price posted, "Will one of these do it?"

"You smoke?" he wondered abruptly.

"N-no," I stammered awkwardly.

Another purse while he cocked his head to the side with a studious expression as if waiting for elaboration. Nonetheless, he clicked a few more keys on his machine without me giving more information.

"You're new," he stated, holding out a hand for payment.

"Yeah," I agreed, passing my card, "I'm a few towns away, actually. I just drove in to-"

"You been watching TV," he slid the card into his reader.

I smirked, retrieving it when he finished, "Yeah."

"You'll be wanting to talk to Ames then," he stated while the receipt printed.

"Who?" my brow furrowed.