frank runs the gas station down on Rt. 89, where Tanner Rd. crosses over the train tracks. Last Wednesday frank was working the overnight shift, which he hates, mostly because it’s boring, but that night was not boring. That night, a small woman wandered into the shop looking for meat. He thought it was such an odd request…meat. This is a gas station, not a grocery store. The closest thing they has to meat in the shop was beef jerky (made locally) “What kind of meat?” frank asked. He wasn’t much afraid at that point, she was so small and so frail looking.

She turned to look at him with grey watery eyes. “Fresh meat.” she whispered as she hobbled towards him.

frank ran. He didn’t care she was half his size, the threatening aura that emanated from her was enough to send him into a blind panic. He threw his body over the linoleum barrier that blocked customers from going into the storage room in the back and scrambled out the emergency door. A cargo train was slowly rumbling past in the dark in front of him, blocking his path to his car. He looked back towards the shop and saw the woman standing there in the cold brights of the overhead lighting. She was still looking towards him, but not moving. It all looked like an evil Edward Hopper painting.

He ran. He ran south on a dirt road that parallel to the train tracks that would eventually bring him to his buddy Tanker’s house. He didn’t care he left the shop open, unlocked, and he didn’t care he would be waking Tanker and his family up at 3 in the morning. He needed to get away.

In the morning frank went back to the shop, accompanied by Tanker, who thought his friend was losing it. She was gone and nothing was stolen, and frank was able to work the rest of his shift like normal, but he quit that day.

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