The lights from the gas station’s canopy reached out 20 yards before succumbing to darkness. The only other light was the buzzing neon sign that said “open.”
Jessie turned the radio off as a customer walked in. It was the sheriff.
“Twenty on pump nine,” he said.
He took the sheriff’s money and handed him a receipt.
“Boy, what happened to your nose? Is that a black eye?”
“No, it’s a birthmark.”
“Funny, I heard on the radio we’re looking for a fella with one of those.”
The sheriff’s cruiser vanished in the dark. Jessie grinned at the cashier tied up under the counter.