Sounds and Silences
HAROLD MCCREED PULLED into the gas station at just after 1:00 a.m., weary from driving all day. When he climbed out of his old Chevy pickup, his back cracked. The truck door mimicked this sentiment and protested with a grinding whine when he slammed it shut.
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, but the old pump didn’t have the option to use a credit card. In fact, Harold wasn’t even sure if the pumps were operational. He’d have to check inside.
Clustered near the entry to the tiny convenience store were a band of shady characters. Two girls just over the edge of adulthood wore short skirts and midriff halter tops. They smoked cigarettes with bright, red-painted mouths. One whispered to the other and pointed in Harold’s direction. The pointer wore a short, flu
