Gas Pumps

We sit on the wet pavement of the 7/11 at 4 AM, smoking camels beneath the eerie glow of the gas station lights. This is the hour of nostalgia. You're all bubble gum day dreams and heart shaped sunglasses with a bad attitude. I'm all liquid depression and over sized hoodies with a drinking problem. We watch as the morning cracks the sky open like an egg as the world slowly wakes and the darkness of a highway becomes speckled with the orbs of headlights. We flick our cigarette butts towards the gas pumps because we know it's a bad idea. In a book bag there is a bottle of jager - I take a good drag and pass it to you - a toast to this hour of nostalgia. -kelsey jade