TwoTHIS MORNING, CHUCK opened up the highway store again. Like he had most days for the last 20 years.
He sat on the faded wooden bench, under the faded metal awning out front and waited.
The morning was still cool, a slight breeze from the south that would mean another hot day. Not enough to raise the dust. In the shade, it was comfortable. The bench was wooden, but curved to support your back. And he had his step stool out there to keep his booted feet up off the ground.
Nearby, a tall thermos of lemonade spiked with vodka was busy perspiring. Ice cubes slowly melting, sometimes shifting with a light tinkle as they settled in.
Lately, he'd been putting that extra "juice" in it. Just to take the edge off.
Didn't expect much customers coming in today, if any. Like the last few weeks.
