7.16.2013

029

The dust hung in the air it always had at this time of year. The semis in the yard stirred it all up with their coming and going.
The poor pay, high heat, and weak fan had become her young life's story.
This truck stop gas station was probably about 60 years old and obviously so. It was not very well kept over all that time. The till worked but the toilets barely did. The drivers were all the same sort. Hard worn and years beyond scruffy. Though it always pulled her attention that they rarely smelled foul.
This trailer park town in the southwest desert held all of her past and it nearly took her breath away when she realized she may very well never get out.
Her father's Plymouth had all it could do to get from home to work each day and always seemed to stall out once between the double-wide and the grocery. It wouldn't be her ticket out, surely. This one useful item her father contributed to her existence before his years of carelessness lead to a gravestone.

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