For many, a vacation represent something magical; something people that desire but are left empty with their gluttonous and tired stressed minds. Maybe even perfect for running away from all the problems that reality plagues like leprosy in the workplace. To Otto, its one of the best times that he has to do whatever he wanted to.

Even the preparation phase was fun, planning, packing, and enjoying the days roll by; These were things that Otto looked forward, and always had his dedicated diligence.

But currently, that was not the case. He slewed against the recliners of the dodgy minivan, and confusingly pondered as he watched the dry desert landscape pass by, 'Why on earth has it gone this way...'

Then, he abruptly recoiled and his cheeks turned a disgusting green.

But as Otto struggled to hold everything in, his seatmate looked on with seemingly indifferent gray eyes. His face was obscured by the hoodie he wore, save for the chin and some locks of pale brown hair hanging greasily. He took off one of the earphones for his Walkman, and leant towards his friend.

“Hey, you okay?” said Matt.

“...Yep, I’ve never been bett—” Otto replied as his throat recoiled. “S-sorry, to tell you the truth, I lied.”

“Really? That's all?” Matt shrugged and sighed. He bent himself forwards and brandished a plastic bag. “Here, let it all out.”

He quickly snatched the bag. Then, his body trembled as he struggled to let it all out, only slightly being helped by the pleasuring rhythmic patting on the back. But, it didn’t really help all that much. Then

“That’s it.”

“Ugh… Hey, Matt.”

“Is something else bothering you?” Matt grumbled.

“...Clueless as always,” Otto spat. He tied the plastic bag, paused for a moment to look at the disgusting body fluid. Then he frowned. “You haven’t forgotten ha-haven’t you?“

Matt yawned, “Yeah, yeah… But, that's your fault.”

“But you forgot to bring my stuff!”

“So? Last night drained me way more than it should’ve,” Matt tiredly refuted, “Don't put the blame on me pal, I was exhausted. Both of us. Seriously, you can’t depend on exhausted people like me for that!” He turned against the window and put his Walkman on.

“Maybe, but still… I was hoping you’d do it!”

While they continued to bicker, Rowan, the driver, continued his duty in bliss. It had been a week since he returned from the business trip, which was in itself a rather fulfilling one. Now that he was driving once more, on the very road he began his career, only a feeling of nostalgia crept in his mind. Driving the minivan, which felt like he was driving on butter, reminded him of the old girl he had traveled with so, so dearly.

Rowan glanced towards the rearview mirror. That young man, he wasn’t the same person he used to be, ever since then. His mother would’ve knocked some sense into him, but… she was not here… at least not yet. The driver frowned, and tried shaking off these thoughts. He turned the radio knob to something more happy.

He sighed quietly, “What am I going to do Sophie…”

As his thoughts dwelled deeper and deeper in his consciousness, he was almost to the point of daydreaming. Yet, something… Brought him back to his senses.

A disembodied sound filled the car. It was loud, and it brought forth an eerie sort of feeling within. The feeling called being annoyed. Rowan grimaced and crunched teeth, but he earnestly kept a stiff upper lip. After the beeps ended, followed a feminine voice with a dodgy British accent, ‘Fuel is below the amount necessary, please head to the nearest gas station. Approximately 41 kilometers away, and… will take approximately 21 minutes to travel to.’

Despite this, the bars remained static in equilibrium and have not lowered. And by static, one of the bars was flickering once, twice… thrice. It was strange, but not something that Rowan ever found difficult. He tapped on the glass, and sure enough… It stopped. Now, all that he could hope for was that it could keep moving forward.

"Even then, I would've wanted you to bring my stuff!"

“Stop giving excuses, man." Matt sighed disappointedly. "You're responsible right? Then you should've done it?”

"I am, but—"

"But, what? You were the one who was excited. You even hitched a hike with us, just to head to where we were going. And all because you missed your train."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Otto fell silent, and sluggishly tried to voice a single thought. Though, all that came out was some mumble, in a tone he'd hate using. Gravely and contrived.

“...Fine. You w-win this round, Porter.”

***

It was the fine time of noon. In an isolated part of the highway, there lay a small rest stop. Consisting of a gas station, an expressmart, and a derelict building. A man of stature, Dominic Barca ran the place. Currently, he was busy brushing the floors of their dust. He would’ve bought a vacuum cleaner, but shipping was expensive around these parts. Why would he bother with those punks on the coast with their fruits of progress? All lies I tell you.

A thud struck.

He sighed, “Are you still there Marie?"

A young woman perked her head from a shelf corner. She was dressed in a uniform that highly suggested that she was working at a certain establishment, in which beauty was meant to be conveyed. Her eyebags, easily relaxed stance, and frizzy black hair say otherwise. She thought it wise to be perk when she heard her name, and yet the pressure emanating from his eyes never seemed to fade. A desire to look away crept against her back.

“Yes.” She groaned.

Stack upon stacks upon stacks of sacks lay vertically inside the expressmart. They all carried the same payload, salt. Dominic stared at them, and sighed, continuing his rather monotonous store spring clean. It was quiet, save for the rumbles that the appliances would let out and fan on the top and Marie’s what’s it called… taste in culture.

He stroked his chin, and felt the fine stubble he had. Rest assured, Dominic thought, never had there been anything to disturb this peaceful gas station. It was modest, it was isolated, and it was his only source of income..

“One more thing,” He spoke, catching Marie off guard as she walked away. “Why are you still here? George is about to come soon. You know overwork is a horrible thing, ‘specially in this part of the damn country.”

“You can’t trust George! The guy is always screwing things over, and he, he is a dumbass.”

The shopkeeper brandished some green paper in front of her, then rasped. “Is it ‘cause you didn’t meet your quota last Saturday? I’m willing to overlook that, you know.”

Marie mumbled, looking unimpressed, “I only wanted to help…” She paused, and took a moment to stare at her superior.

“Well if you wanna help with stuff, ‘ere you go.”

“What’s this supposed to be?” Marie asked, perplexed at what the old shopkeeper had given her.

“I want you to head to Paul’s. Tell him that I want another shipment of everything in that piece of… paper.”

“Paul? Oh you mean… the hillbilly guy with that thing.”

“Marie. You can rest after you’ve given that to Paul. He’s reliable, you know so don’t try to help him.”

Emotion broiled up inside the pot. It steamed up on her usually tired rosy face, and tensed her glabella. It had been a while since she had loosened up, and it really had to. Even if she d

“Got it. See you.”

'That geezer oughta' know that I'm dependable.' She thought, as she inserted a note into the vending machine's slip. 'He didn’t even give enough cash to buy this shipment. Ugh, how does he even run the place?’

As she pondered intrusively in her mind, a car began to roll into the parking lot. It was pathetic in appearance, and its coat was an ugly gray, the kind you'd see at a dealership in the big city. She turned around once she had gotten a cool can of cola.

“Heyo, Marie! Nice seeing you in this lovely morning.” The man greeted, reeking of sweat.

“It’s noon, George.” Marie groaned, “I didn’t expect you to come this early.”

George shrugged, “I’ve got a lot of time off my hands. Mom’s busy working at the Riviera, and Pierre’s taken over my shift there. Well, that’s what he gets for losing on poker to me!”

Marie rolled her eyes. ‘This pest…’

“Hey, wait a second I just remembered something.”

“What is it…” Marie sighed. She then mounted on her motorcycle, tying her long, grizzly hair into a bun. “Keep it short, I need to go. Soon.”

“The Riviera. You know they’re celebrating their sixty-fourth anniversary right?” George enthusiastically said.

“Yeah. Nellie told me on the phone earlier.”

“Nellie?” George exclaimed. “Oh, so you know. I thought you didn’t.”

“Well, I’m not planning on attending. I’ve got to do stuff.” Marie shrugged, “If I did well, I’d stick out like a sore thumb and ruin everyone’s night. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go. See ya’ pest.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

It was too late, the bird had flown away on her motorbike.

“Dammit, I wanted her to know that there’s going to be stir fry…”

The middle aged shopkeep sauntered outside of the dark store, and immediately the light brilliantly shone on his eyes. Other than that, the arid breeze lightly flowed. George glanced towards him, and waved, shining an insincere grin.

“Hey, boss? Is there any way to describe this feeling?”

“No, not really. You’re too in her face, I suppose.” Dominic greeted, “Snap out of it will ya? Remember what you’re here for, George. You and I are going to make te most of our day, and I want it to be a fine day!”

“Are you serious?”

“That’s what me old dad used to say, te bastard.”

“I thought you said that you never had one?”

George stood for a moment, looking disappointed, then went into the store, “Sure what keeps you up at night.”

Dominic’s eagle eyes glanced up towards the top of the canopy of the gas station. Specks of white paint dotted around the steel, given that it was an ancient heap of junk that had been left to mummify. He grumbled for a moment, and stood as silent as the cactus.

But before he could ponder some more, a rumbling set of piston explosions slowly began to surge. The shopkeeper stood up from his chair, fixed his polo's collar, and adjusted his cheap sunglasses. He also sprayed some eau de parfum on himself. Then, he coughed.

“Time to put the old business look on once more.”