So there I was, filling up my Subary Impreza WRX STi full of gas at a gas station somewhere on US Highway 1, somewhere between the hell holes known as Swift Current and Ox Nose. Some old Volkswagen is stopped on the other side of the gas pump, while its driver fills it full of gas.
Oddly, she decides to pay inside, instead of using the rather useful credit card reader that's on the pumps at all the gas stations these days.
Just as I was hitting the 'no' button in response to the gas pump's query as to whether I wanted a receipt, I noticed the occupant of the passenger's seat. She had been asleep, and woke up with a start. She didn't seem to notice me watching her. She suddenly had a very odd, sad expression on her face, then she grabbed her stuff, and bolted from the car.
She didn't look like the woman pumping gas. Maybe she was her friend? Maybe she was her "friend"?
The first woman came out of the building with a shopping bag full of soda and pork rinds. She scanned the gas station (presumably for her 'friend') and then got in her car with a sad look on her face.
For a brief second, I have odd thoughts about gay marriage, and how they would probably be as successful as straight marriages. Then I decide I like my completely uncomplicated life.