Short Stories

Stories are also a form of imaginary travel, a way of traversing the landscape of the mind. In his book, Sad Topographies, Damien Rudd writes a chapter on non-places, specifically gas stations. It took me back to a forgotten story in my timeline of memories, some 20 years ago, when I celebrated New Year’s Eve at a petrol station.  I had a friend who worked the night shift at petrol stations around the outskirts of Adelaide. I think the money was decent but not worth the hassle of dealing with the unruly behaviour of late-night customers. I was surprised to learn how many people would fill up their car’s petrol tank with fuel and then drive off. Mind you, this was the early 2000s, so security was not what it is today. The money that was unaccounted for would have to come out of my friend’s paycheck, supposedly incentivising him to keep an eagle eye on his customers. The job stressed him out, but it gave him the time to think about where he wanted his future self to be. A petrol station