On my way across country I passed through Iowa, and at one point I had to pull off the highway to get gas. This gas station was the only visible building. In all directions all you could see was a flat expanse of cropland, and mine was the only car in sight as well.
As I pumped my gas, I glanced in at the cashier and wondered how she got there and where she goes at quitting time. It must be an awfully lonely job, and for a bridgetender to say that about someone else’s job tells you quite a bit. But finding employment anywhere in that area must be quite a challenge, so good for her.
Then around the corner came a man in a brown three piece suit. Still no other cars anywhere. At first it kind of amused me. Men so rarely wear vests these days, and brown, in my personal opinion, is one of the tackiest of suit colors.
But the guy stood by the doorway and just stared at me with the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. The fact that he didn’t blink, looked rather hostile, and had a receding hairline and a slicked back pony tail made him look like a hawk on the hunt. I thought, “Serial killer.” It gave me the shivers.
Unfortunately I had to walk past him to pay for the gas, because apparently pay at the pump technology hadn’t reached this particular venue yet. Maybe it will in another 50 years. So I nodded at the guy as I passed him. He just continued to frown and stare. He followed me into the convenience store.
The cashier was friendly and seemed to take no notice of the man whatsoever. It was almost as if she didn’t see him. I gave her the money and went on my way. I kind of felt guilty leaving her alone with that guy, but I was happy enough to get back on the highway. The man came back out and watched me as I exited the parking lot, too.
There’s a story there. I wish I knew it. And I’ll always wonder.
[Image credit: Trulia.com]
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