Gasolin Cerca De Mí Novels & Stories

Along the road, Ronjon stopped the car near a group of men to ask for the location of the nearest gasoline station. A man pointed to his right. "It's two kilometers from here." Ronjon got wary of pointing fingers, thanks to Asha's pranks before. "Are you sure?" "Yes, that place is actually a bus station," said a guy, too. "Just straight and no intersection ahead?" Ronjon said. "Well, there's one, turn right, and you'll get there,” an old man sitting with orange teeth and lips said, chewing a betel leaf.

We traveled a few blocks before my gas light flickered on. "Damnit." The last thing I wanted was a detour but there was no way I'd make it home on empty tank. Taking the next exit, I coasted into a run down gas station and stepped out. Pulling up to the pump, I risked another look back. The black sedan had followed...and was idling at the far corner of the lot.

As she navigated the bustling streets, her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. Della's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she approached a neon-lit petrol station on the city's outskirts. The gas gauge blinked ominously, reminding her of the need to refuel. Pulling into the station, she parked her car next to a row of fuel pumps and stepped into the cool evening air.