Gas Station

Harsh fluorescents buzz over fuel pumps hulking in the night chill, where a local guy gripes sharply about coffee prices gouging like political betrayals. Stale brew steams from a convenience counter amid racks of chips and motor oil, the air thick with gasoline tang and rural isolation. Tires crunch gravel as drivers pause en route to distant farms, this fleeting outpost slicing mundane commerce into the high-tension drive—a gritty waypoint where everyday costs echo the era's deeper resentments.