The Night Clerk at the Green River Gas Station

It's July 2007, just past 2 AM, and I'm pumping gas at the Green River Gas Station off County Road 9 in western Oklahoma. The station is a relic: single pump, a cooler with glass-bottle sodas, a cash register that still rings. The clerk is a kid named Tyler, maybe nineteen, wearing a stained polo shirt and reading a dog-eared paperback. He tells me about the regulars who come through after midnight—truckers, a woman who buys only black coffee, an old man who asks for directions to a town that doesn't exist. But the one he can't stop talking about is the man in the cream-colored sedan who stops every third Thursday, fills the tank, and pays with a twenty-dollar bill from a stack thick as his wrist. Tyler never sees the man's face. He never sees the car leave. And he's been working the night shift for eight months now. This is what he told me, standing under the buzzing fluorescent light, while the pump clicked and the wind carried dust across the asphalt. #GreenRiverGasStation #CountyRoad9 #Oklahoma #NightShift #Tyler #CreamSedan #EveryThirdThursday #MissingTime #SmallTownHorror #GasStationEncounter #2AM #July2007 #TheBackupDrive #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #SoloNarration #Luna #Anthology #Horror #StorytellingHorror Keep every episode free: buymeacoffee.com/fexingo