Author: Riley Thompson
It was the summer before college, the one everyone said would be the best of our lives. For me, it mostly smelled like sunscreen and gasoline.
I worked at my uncle’s gas station, pumping fuel for tourists on their way to the beach. Every day, I watched the same families pass by, their cars stuffed with coolers and sun hats, while I stayed behind in the heat.
Then one afternoon, this girl pulled up in an old blue pickup. Hair tied up, music blasting, Fleetwood Mac, I think. She smiled like she’d known me forever and said, “Fill it up?”
We talked while the tank filled. She said she was driving cross-country “just because.” I told her that sounded nice. She laughed and said, “It is.”
When she left, she stuck a Polaroid out the window. “So you don’t forget this place.”
I still have that picture taped inside my wallet. The pump, the heat haze, her truck driving away. The summer didn’t turn out amazing, but for one afternoon, it almost was.
