Down at the gas station parking lot. Young stud on a hot bike is talking to a PYT while her friend leans against their car. PYT stands hipshot and grinning while the friend looks bored beyond belief.
The air smells of warm asphalt and the tang of gasoline and glows blue in the light of the canopy lights. For just a moment thirty-five years fell away from me.
Life is good.
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