⚠️ Content Warnings: This story contains mild language, references to grief, emotional burnout, verbal mistreatment in a workplace setting, and themes of depression and dissociation.
I’d worked a dozen jobs in just a few years. Life got… lifey, I suppose. All around me, people moving on, progressing. And there I was—stuck in the past, wishing for an exit. I’d given up hoping it would be an easy one.
My mom always told me that to get ahead, you had to work hard. I did that, but I was too damaged, too real. Too gullible, really. Used up and torn down—all in a day’s work. Until the losses piled so high I couldn’t see over them anymore. And I stopped trying.
I sat with it all too long. Time got away from me. Fake friends ambled on to greener pastures. To hell with them.
Then one day, she walked into my life. She was the sun and the grass after the rain. I could barely breathe.
I remember thinking how sorry it was for her to see me like this—getting on in life, more lines than I cared to count, less hair. Holes for eyes.
I went back to my nonexistence. No way she would look my way anyhow.
Then she did. My hands slick with sweat.
She smiled—coyly at first, then looked away.
I glanced around, confused, wondering who she was looking at that way. But there was no one else.
She laughed a little, looking up at me from under her brows. Then she turned and walked out of the store.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding, forgotten until that moment. Another customer walked in, spell broken.
“Yeah, bruh, your toilet’s tanked. You gotta do something.”
Ah, damn.
I shuffled off toward the cleaning supplies, grabbing a mop. This would be my favorite part of the night, I thought—biting down harder than usual.
Mopping up the mess, I heard a low noise at the door. When I looked up, she was standing there, watching me work.
Her face was wistful, almost.
“Help you, Miss?” My face must’ve looked a sight.
She smiled. “I was just thinking I could help you.”
I must’ve looked confused. I sure felt it. “Come again?”
“Well, I’ve been watching you, you know. You seem so sad.” She looked me full in the face, with a light behind her eyes I can’t describe.
My breath caught at her beauty. I stammered something—I don’t know what. I felt a little drunk.
Her gaze was too radiant. I dropped my eyes to a small brooch pinned just above her heart, giving mine a moment to slow down.
It was some kind of bird. The colors were so vibrant it almost looked real. I felt dazzled.
Then, just as quickly as she came, she was gone.
My hands shook so badly I dropped the mop. I bent down to pick it up, and when I straightened, she wasn’t there.
I sat down hard. The breath rushed out of me. I wasn’t sure if I had imagined her, but it felt real.
Slowly, I wondered how long I’d been sitting there. Cussing under my breath, I got up and went back inside.
No one was waiting. No one had called the owner. But there was a car parked at pump number 3. No one in sight.
Okay…
I checked the surveillance footage. No one had gotten out of the car. By the footage, it had been there since before my shift started.
That couldn’t be. There was no one there when I arrived. It had been deader than usual.
I would’ve noticed a red Chrysler parked there. No way I’d have missed that.
One thing about working a gas ’n go in the middle of nowhere: it was the perfect place to disappear when you stopped giving a damn.
Craig said there hadn’t been a single customer all day. Not unusual. I often wondered how they even stayed open—not that they paid me much.
But this? This was beyond weird.
I stood there for an eternity, waiting for someone to show up. Like they’d just walk down that long highway back to their car.
I could’ve sworn someone had gassed up earlier. But the cameras couldn’t lie, could they?
I don’t know what I was thinking, but I walked out to see if anyone was in the car.
No one. I felt the hood. Warm.
I couldn’t work that out. I’d been watching it sit for a long while. If the cameras weren’t lying, it had been there all day.
It was early spring, frost still on the ground most mornings.
Shaking my head, I looked around. Nothing amiss. No sounds above the ordinary. No headlights on the highway.
I blinked hard, trying to reset the moment.
Suddenly, a little gray tabby curled around my ankles, looking for food. She had a litter somewhere nearby, so I always kept a small bag of kibble in my cargo pocket.
She was the bright spot in my days.
After feeding her, I turned to go back inside and heard a rooster crowing in the distance.
As I stood there, the darkness began to lighten. A glimmer on the horizon.
It couldn’t have been later than 2 a.m. I ran inside to check the time.
Almost 7.
The shock nearly knocked me over. Craig would be in any moment, and I hadn’t done most of my shift duties.
Where had the time gone?
The room spun. I grabbed the counter, grounding myself.
I wandered back behind the register, ticking off chores on autopilot.
Craig’s Tundra pulled up, Honky-Tonk pouring out the cracked window, smoke billowing.
I kept working quietly, still trying to think through the strangeness.
Craig stomped over to the trash bin and kicked it. I hadn’t taken the garbage. His shoulders and jaw telegraphed his mood.
He slammed through the door.
“What the hell, Art? Did ya sleep through your shift? You ain’t done nothin’!”
Have I mentioned I don’t like Craig? He’s the worst.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll finish before I leave,” I mumbled.
Wrong move.
“You’re ’bout the sorriest excuse of a man I ever seen. Not like the job’s hard, but you still can’t do it, can ya?”
My jaw and fists tightened. I jammed them in my pockets to kill the temptation to deck him. Something hard poked my hand.
Keys?
Craig kept yelling, but his voice faded as I pulled out a keychain. A star on one side, “Chrysler” embossed on the other.
The charm was a bird—a phoenix.
The same image I’d seen on the girl’s brooch.
Craig’s voice was muted, but he was clearly raging. I kept turning the key over, everything replaying in my mind.
I thought about everything I’d lost. Everything I’d given up.
Friends hadn’t faded—I’d walked out on them.
My dog had been sick, but Craig threatened to fire me if I stayed home. I came back to find him gone.
I’d loved that dog.
My mom had died, and Craig threatened me again if I left for her funeral.
Her funeral.
And I’d taken it. Shut down, I’d just taken it.
The phoenix glinted, catching a ray of light.
Everything clicked.
My mind set. The words burst free.
“You know what? I quit.”
My voice was calm, direct.
Craig’s face could have blistered paint. I hadn’t known skin came in that shade of red.
“What the hell you mean, you quit?” He spit the words, flecks flying.
“Just what I said, Craig. Shove it.”
My spine straightened. My voice was clear.
I walked out, stepping around him as his mouth opened and closed, searching for words.
He wouldn’t find anyone else willing to put up with his crap.
I chuckled at the thought. Then grew nervous as I approached the car.
What if I’d been wrong?
I slid the key into the lock, holding my breath. It turned like butter. Relief washed over me.
I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it was better than where I’d been.
I sat down, closed the door, and cranked the engine.
It purred to life.
A flurry in my peripheral. I turned.
She was there, in the passenger seat. Bright green eyes flecked with gold.
She smiled, laying her hand on mine. “I knew you’d find your way, but I had to nudge you.”
I felt light. “Yeah, I guess you did. Thank you.”
“Where do you want to go?” she asked eagerly.
“I don’t care, honestly. As long as it’s anywhere but here.”
I threw the car into drive and pulled out onto the highway, passing a sign that read:
“You’re now leaving Idle Junction.”
And for the first time in years, I smiled.
Author’s Note:
Idle Junction is about burnout, grief, and the strange moments that push us toward change. It’s a story of leaving behind what weighs us down and finding the courage to drive into the unknown.
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Loved this one - you caught the moment between breaking and becoming. That’s rare 🙏🏻