Gas
Rick glanced at her before turning off the car. It was nothing more than a confirmation that she could survive without him in the cold for a few moments. Nothing more than a primal instinct to protect and provide.
Without really looking at what she looked like, he shut off the engine, and pulled himself out of the too-high seat to unscrew the cap that sat behind his license plate. He had already checked his bank account and knew that he could afford exactly $10.81 worth of gas. He was unhappy with how little money he would have left over, but decided that once you leave home at 3 AM on Adderall, you’ve forfeited any right to begrudge your wallet for the lifestyle you can’t afford.
The machine asked him for his zip code, and he dumbly stared, confused, as it rejected his credit card and prompted him to go inside and pay with an actual person. He did not say anything to his companion, but could notice her eyes on his back as he hunched over his pocketed hands and lumbered into the fluorescent purgatory a few feet away from the pump.
“How much do you need?” A small, dark man mumbled at him. Rick couldn’t help but wonder for whom this man was wasting his nights. A family no doubt slept without him in a too-small house. Rick threw another look over his shoulder at the silent car in which Lola sat. The flash of her phone screen managed to cut through the night and make its way through two layers of glass to hit his eyes. She was safe.
“I would like exactly $10.81, please.”
Rick was proud of himself. He had gotten his point across easily, efficiently. After his card was handed back to him, Rick pushed the cheapest option on the pump and leaned down on the handle to keep the flow from stopping. Within a minute the amount had been met, and the car was ready to make its way to the crashing waves that seemed to hold answers for everybody but Rick himself. He stepped into the car, took Lola’s hand, and drove away.
He never realized that he hadn’t replaced the cap that sat behind his license plate.