Brakes squealed loudly in the thick, evening fog as Melody pulled into the antiquated gas station. A simple red flickering 'open' sign buzzed and ticked inside the small attendant booth nearby. An old woman, fat and weathered from the sun and her age was inside, bent eagerly over local scandal magazine.
Melody stepped from her black Mercedes. Her pumps threatened to wobble on the dirty, uneven ground but she stood firm on long, slim legs. Shivering briefly, she tightened the belt around her trench coat and cursed, not for the first time, her choice in clothing. The dark red top and black skirt she wore beneath it gave no warmth. Stepping carefully around patches of dead grass grown through broken concrete, Melody reached the booth. The door screeched in the eerily silent mist.
"I need gas," Melody said, hugging her arms. The little building reeked of gasoline, grease and the old woman's stench. Melody wrinkled her nose.
"Cash only," the old woman answered without looking up.
"Ugh," Melody sighed. "No credit cards? Fine. Just, fill it all the way up, will you?"
The old woman slowly looked up. Her jowls hung low and her gray, frazzled hair had long ago escaped the white hair band she wore. Without a word, she reached over with a steady finger to tap at a weathered sign: 'Self Service'.
"Cash only," she reiterated before returning to her magazine.
Melody shifted her weight, frowning at the woman. She fought an urge to swipe everything off the grimy counter and scream at the woman.
"Fine," she said, instead, biting the word off through a fake smile. She reached into her purse, a gift just like the car was, until she found her wallet. The young woman dug several bills out and tossed them on the counter. "Premium."
The old woman took the money slowly before turning to her register. Melody sneered openly at her. Glancing down, she noticed an oddity in the squalor of the building: a dark red ribbon draped over a silver frame. Inside the frame was a picture of the woman, slightly younger, and a large siamese cat. The words 'In Memory' were etched into the bottom of the frame. Melody touched the ribbon, surprised to feel real silk. It almost exactly matched the color of her top. With a quick look towards the woman, she took the ribbon, balling it into her hand before shoving it into her pocket.
Taking her receipt, Melody stalked off to her car, hand in her coat pocket rubbing the ribbon back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. She filled her car quickly, watching the old woman through the large windows. She never took her eyes from the magazine.
"Hah. Bitch," Melody whispered. A thrill ran through her body at the theft of the ribbon. It was a small thing but it made her feel better and a little excited. The pump clicked off at exactly $25. Melody shoved the handle onto the hook and got into her car. Turning on the overhead light, she wrapped the ribbon around her neck and tied it off with a simple knot. She turned her smooth, graceful neck side-to-side, admiring how well the ribbon fit her.
The Mercedes roared into life. Melody floored it, sending rocks and dirt slamming into the pump and small booth.
-----
Melody shifted in the car's leather seats. She'd been driving since the morning and it was beginning to take its toll on her. Her legs, hips and back were sore and, worse, she felt her alertness fading. Miles and miles of empty road covered by dense fog and lined with forests began to blend together and she blinked.
The sound of tires thudding against hardened bumps on the side of the road forced Melody awake in a panic. She swerved, hissing at herself for having fallen asleep. Now wide awake, her heart raced and she licked her lips. The young woman checked her rearview mirror and then, out of nervous habit, patted the tight bun of her hair. She reached down to work her nails under the ribbon, scratching at the nape of her neck.
Small white hairs sprouted under the ribbon and around her fingers. She rubbed and scratched at the fine hairs before putting both hands on the wheel. Despite her panic, she could feel her body relaxing, once again making her lazy and distracted. Melody turned on her satellite radio to help keep her awake.
Nearly a mile down the road, the young woman passed a sign letting drivers know that a motel, gas station and fast food place were just two exits away. She yawned, not quite tired but far more relaxed than she should be while driving at night through heavy fog. She'd wanted to drive a few more hours to surprise Frederick in his hotel room but he'd be just as happy waking up to see her. He had the entire weekend away from his wife and he'd promised to buy her some new jewelry if she came out to see him. He was old and ugly but wealthy and that's all she really cared about. That and the thrill of the affair. She almost looked forward to when she finished milking him and a few pictures made their way to his wife. Almost.
Taking the exit, Melody turned down her heater as her cheeks became flushed. A single bead of sweat ran down her temple to slip under the ribbon. More white hairs pushed through her skin, catching the drop of sweat until the ribbon absorbed it. The young woman twisted her neck in a small circle as she parked her car in front of the motel's office.
Melody gasped when she opened her car door. The cool night air seemed to slide against her warm skin, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps. She arched her back, still in her car, as more sweat ran down her toned back. Pulling herself out of the car, she stretched luxuriously before checking to make sure her hair was in place. The smell of cigarettes wafted over to her. Hiding her nose behind a small, pale hand, Melody looked around until she noticed a middled-aged man smoking outside one of the small rooms. Beyond him, sitting on the far side of the gravel parking lot was a large semi-truck.
