In our stars (Break)

Chainsaws and the Extra Absorbant Kind- 17

Chapter 17:

Carter pushed his shoulder blades together, trying to loosen the tension in his muscles from being stiffly glued to his bike seat for so long. The sound of the tires against the open road was still ringing in his ears.

He racked his brain, trying to remember what the date was. But he couldn't.

Judging by the eerie darkness that draped itself over the trees, it was the beginnings of the evening. A dark quiet evening that he could spend nursing his heartache and headache with a bottle. The gas station sign, flashing a sharp and painful bright green and red, burned itself into his retinas. Although he was cursing its fluorescence, it was what drew him in. He felt like a moth controlled by bursts of light. His stomach was too hungry and numb to even make a sound. His ribs were beginning to poke through his black T-shirts.  He didn't know where he was and he didn't care. If he hadn't decided to stop and eat, for the first time in days, he might have found himself, a lone wolf lying cold and still on the side of the road.

What a pretty picture. They'd find him with only a red sweater and a promise in his bag. The only earthly possessions that mattered to him.

Carter flung open the door of the small convenience store. From the way the girl leaning against the cash register jumped at the sound, he could tell this place hardly welcomed late night visitors.

She screeched and flew half a foot in the air, throwing the book she had been engrossed in, to the floor. The sound made Carter's mouth curl in distaste.

She apologized nervously, but did not resume her leisurely activities. She hunched over the counter and shamelessly stared at him in caution as he squeezed through the minuscule spaces in the isles.

With his broad shoulders and the luggage-sized circles under his eyes, he must have looked dishevelled and rough...but surely not rough enough to trigger such a suspicious response. This shop in all its fluorescent, musty smelling glory, must be a hotbed for all sorts of weird and wonderful characters. He being the least strange of its usual customers. 

He could sense her unease. She didn't know that he was as harmless as a roll of toilet paper.

He moved around the small store, praying not to knock anything over. It was difficult to be a big man hoping to move through a small space. He had to push himself into a thin sheet, his body and his presence felt confined. The shelves were all stocked to the brim, an almost random assortment of products teetering dangerously from every inch of them. They were stacked like dominoes, one false touch from toppling.

Tired from his journey and feeling too scrutinized under the distrustful gaze of this hoodie-clad girl, he grabbed a can of coke, a bag of chips and a box of Raspberry pop tarts giving in to his impulsive need for saturated fat and sugar.

When he reached the front desk he could only muster up a half smile to give to the curly haired stranger who looked like she was about to whip out an extra-large and extra spicy can of pepper spray and fire it directly at him...At least he wouldn't have to look at the neon sign anymore. At least that would make him feel something.

He fished out a few notes from his wallet and threw them in the direction of the register. The register itself was a quintessential example of the time warp he felt he was in. It was black with thick, metal typewriter like buttons. Every inch of its base collaged with human boyband stickers, which had stood the test of time. That, coupled with the tray of glitter lip-glosses and rack of ancient movies, made him feel like he had stepped into a different world.

As his items were being scanned the girl looked at him with absolute confusion.

"What." He said in a deadpan voice.