Gasolin Cerca De Mí Novels & Stories

I ask while rubbing my eyes, trying to adjust to the sunlight. “We are still halfway. Do you want to freshen up? Ten miles down the road, there is a gas station and a diner,” Arci responded through the rearview mirror. He pointed to the road sign on our left, which featured a cutlery symbol and a pumping station. “That’s not necessary, Arci, where exactly are we? Six is getting fidgety, he is howling in my head, and it’s giving me a headache,” I blurted as I glanced outside the window, rubbing my temple with index and middle fingers in a circular motion.

For sure the vehicle needs gasoline. He glanced at me from time to time, but I didn't care. I mustn't give him the impression that I am afraid. I am almost twenty-eight now. I will never cry in front of him either and beg him to let me go. I felt that the car had come to a halt; I looked up. It's a gasoline station. This is my chance. I will scream for help. When I saw that he was opening the door. I screamed for help. He closed it again and turned to me. He grabbed me and kissed me hard.

“Florence.” “Florence—oh my God,” his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?” “I’m safe now. At some gas station in the middle of nowhere. Can you—” “Stay there,” he commanded urgently. “I’m coming. Don’t move. Send me the location.” *** Just as the sun was setting, I saw Raiden’s car turn a corner and enter the gas station. He leaped out before the engine stopped, running toward me like his life depended on it.

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.

I stood on the seat and carefully opened the tiny window with one hand while trying to keep my feet on the toilet seat. “Tell me what you see… Anything at all,” Javier implored. “I really can’t see anything but cars, and there is this smell… It smells like petrol or something. There must be a car repair shop nearby, and there is a billboard. I can’t see what it says from here. That is all I can see, Javier.” I sighed in despair. “Keep your phone with you no matter what happens, Melissa,” he said, and I was going to reply when I heard Anthony’s voice.

A gas station came into view—small, a little run-down, but the only one on this side of campus that didn’t require a membership card or an overpriced soul trade to get decent fuel. I pulled in and parked at the far pump, away from the convenience store crowd. The station was mostly empty, save for a cluster of motorcycles parked along the far edge of the lot, near the air compressor. Big, loud bikes. The kind that practically screamed look at me in chrome and leather. I didn’t pay them any mind at first.