Runaway at the Gas Station.

Chapter 6: Another Shift

The next shift was normal (At least for the Gas Station's standards.) Tom found Marlboro living in the storage closet funny, that's something new... Right? Who really knows?

You're wiping the counter of the gas station. You were still on edge due to the surprise visit from him. And you were trying to get him out of your mind. Which was easier said than done, considering that paranoia is the only emotion you feel now.

Right now, Tom just left the establishment. And Jack was just sitting behind the counter, tearing up? How could that be!? You got up from wiping to look at him. Seeing him tearing up was... weird in a way!? You didn't really know. You just wanted to check on him.

"Hey, Jack?" You asked, very hushed. "You alright?"

He grabbed a roll of paper towels to wipe it out. "Yeah, I'm just taking care of a leak."

You knew he was lying, but you rolled with it. You had to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's the only full-time employee in this place after all!

"Heyo," said Marlboro cheerfully. You widen your eyes in reply. "Whatcha guys doing?"

"Hey, Jerry!" You replied quickly, ignoring your crying coworker. "Nothing much! We just gotta leak! You sound way better today!"

"Yeah," Jack added, "I gotta admit. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Oh," Marlboro replied. "What, you mean that whole 'crippling depression' thing after my family left me in the woods for a new stage of pleasure-driven universal oneness without me?"

"Yeah. You seemed to bounce back okay." Jack replied.

"Wait, the hell is a 'pleasure-driven universal oneness'?" You asked, what did that even mean? "Why does it sound weird and hippish?"

Marlboro chuckled, you saying that didn't offend him, what a surprise.

"It's complicated kiddo." He said. He then turned his head to Jack. "Well you see, Mathmetists look at it like this: Life isn't a material, it's a wavelength. In the same way like music is just a manipulation of airwaves, living organisms are the manipulation of carbon. Like music, it can be beautiful or chaotic depending entirely on the arrangement and context. We only get to control the context so much. But happiness and suffering coexist in the effects of said control. So I wake up every day and try to shift that balance a little more towards happiness, and it works the best if I start with myself."

"Damn!" You blurted shortly after. Your face emerges into a smile. "That sounds amazing!"

Jack just nodded and added, "Okay, sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"Not in the least," Marlboro replied.

"Me neither," Jack said.

"Seems like there will be questions we'll never be able to answer unless some really smart guy figures it out." You muttered. "Kinda sad really."

"Cool. What's in the box?" Marlboro gestured to the package that somehow appeared out of nowhere on the counter. It was wrapped in gift wrapping and everything.

"Oh. I don't really know. Someone sent it to me. I don't think I'm going to open it." Jack replied.

"Then why are you keeping it? Wouldn't that be unnecessary space?" Marlboro replied.

"How on the same hill did that box appear anyway?" You asked.

Jack took a second to analyze the question like he was a judge of the Supreme Court. He could get rid of it in several ways yet he didn't pull the trigger on it.