I look up from my book.  I'm at my second job, the zombie shift (11:00 p.m.-5:00a.m.) at a gas station in a nowhere town.  This girl is the first living being I've seen in about half an hour. I can't help but wonder what a sixteen-year-old (or thereabouts) is doing at a gas station at 2 a.m., but to each their own, I guess. I think she's high.  She looks somewhat dead, half-tired and half- empty, swaying like a skyscraper on a windy day. She fumbles half-restlessly at the hem her oversized sw...
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