Beth

… sat with the door to her station wagon wide open. She lifted her index finger and pushed her horn rimmed glasses back up her nose. She was sweating so profusely the lens fogged up so often, it was practically pointless to our bifocals, and they refused to stay on the bridge of her nose she was forced to fight with them every few minutes. As her right hand was occupied with her glasses, she ran the left through her dark brown hair. People persisted to call it black, but it was dark brown for God’s sake. Dark brown. She took a deep breath, staring at the Kwik Trip door through the cracked windshield and finally summoned up the courage to step out of her car and walk to the door. First step… made it. You’re fine, Beth, you’re just fine. Just stay focused on the door, and you’ll be all right. Suddenly the door burst open on its own, and a woman came stampeding out, hurdling down the walk. Beth quickly spun around, closed her eyes, and started groping for the car door handle. She wretched it open and dove inside. Shaking, and fixing her spectacles once more, she looked behind her to see the woman that had nearly pummeled her claw her way into an enormous white van. By the looks of it, it was one of the first vans ever made, so square that the one could cut off a limb walking too close to the corners. Beth looked at the clock on the dash board. The green numbers blinked 12:00. 12:00. 12:00. She had never actually set it. The buttons next to the glowing time piece were always too small to push with her finger, and she was much too scared to try and use a pencil or toothpick to do the job, both of which were much too pointy and not worth the risk. She guessed it was around 10:30. It took her a while to recover from her near death experience, and it took her a little while longer to remember why she was out in the middle of the night like this. Then she remembered.

Beth Richards was not known for spontaneity. Nor was she known to have much of a life. Nor was she known, really, by anyone. No friends, no family… that spoke to her at least. She also suffered from severe paranoia. She had come to Kwik Trip, just for a simple pack of gum, but something deep within her was warning her this was going to be no ordinary trip. First she had craved gum in the middle of a Tuesday night, and then a woman had almost stomped her flat.