Pretty When She Cries

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Nicole pulled into the gas station. She fixed her long blonde hair and smacked her rosy lips in the rearview mirror. It was impossible to tell she had just come off a thirty hour flight; she was perfect, cosmetics-commercial perfect. Nicole was the kind of girl that men scheme and make sacrifices to acquire as girlfriends. She was on her way to visit her boyfriend Cameron. He was going to flip when he saw her, he wasn’t expecting her for another three months. After she pumped her gas she went inside to pay the clerk, who was busy at the time attending to someone else, so she grabbed a bag of chips and texted Cameron.

The guy at the counter was buying cigarettes, and fiddled with his wallet. The run down pickup truck outside must have been his, there weren’t any other vehicles. He was tall, thin, with a military hair cut and broad shoulders. He looked like he belonged in prison. At the back of his neck a black tattoo was half hidden by the edge of his tee-shirt. He turned around and looked right at her. Unlike most people, when this guy met her gaze he held it and didn’t let go. His face was hard, like it had been cut from rock, and his mouth was brutally heavy.

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