Archives: Wednesday, November 2, 2016


Cleo woke to the headlights rolling across the doorway as a car pulled off 66. She roused herself, stretched her sore back. A man climbed out of the car and came toward her, keys jingling. He wore  khaki coveralls and a cap emblazoned with the Texaco star. “We’re not open yet,” he said cheerfully. “You by yourself?”

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