Lana Del Rey Oneshots

6. Gas Stations

...

i'm the kinda girl you dream of.

...

She had a routine.

Every Sunday, during your graveyard shift, she'd come through the glass doors and walk around the aisles.

You'd watch her through the long thin mirror up against the furthest wall, up by the ceiling, the one that was put in place so you'd be able to see if anyone tried to steal anything, and studied how pensively adorable she looked browsing the inventory.

You worked at the Chevron gas station in the middle of nowhere—at least not anywhere worth mentioning.

The nearest city was 60 miles away. It was a ghost town of sorts, impregnated by the air of runaways, petty crime, and a chill down your spine at all hours of the day.

It was also a boring job that you worked, there at the gas station, but the people that came through were always the opposite of it.

Everyone had a story; and that fascinated you.

That's part of the reason why you moved to this entirely different place, this empty town, because you believed that wherever it looked boring, that was where the real thrill of it all was.

The lonesome truckers, the drunks, and the criminals mainly comprised your category of regulars. It was a shocker when she first appeared, and kept coming back. Her mysterious identity attracted you, to be exact.

You found out her name after a while of her visits. It was Lizzy. She looked sweet and honest. Too pure and and innocent to be in such a godless, hopeless place.

Lizzy would be dropped off by a blue Chevy Malibu every Sunday at 4:40 am precisely. The windows were tinted on the car, but sometimes you'd catch how the man inside would roll down his window and she'd lean in just to kiss him goodbye.

Lizzy would sometimes wander outside, or sometimes inside, for the 20 minutes that it would take for the clock to hit 5:00 am. You would try to make small talk with her whenever you could, which she was always responsive to.

Then, she'd head out, and stand on the corner where the bus stop was, until the silver bus arrived and took her away.

It made no sense in your head, why it was that she'd be dropped off. You found yourself wondering why the man who you presumed to be her lover didn't just take her to where she was headed. The story intrigued you.

On this particular day, the clock had hit 4:45 and she hadn't arrived. That worried you deeply, as you had found comfort over the weeks in watching over to make sure she'd catch her bus. It was raining heavily which made you worry even more, anxious at the idea that an accident had occurred.

At 4:48, the Chevy Malibu sped into the gas station and braked harshly just outside of the store doors. You found it strange, but were relieved when you saw the bleach blonde girl you had been worrying so much about, open up the passenger door. The man in the car tried to pull her back inside by the arm, but she angrily pushed him away and jumped out anyways.

She crossed her arms defiantly and yelled things you couldn't make out. He yelled things back. The rolling thunder in the skies just added to the intensity of the moment. You considered going out to intervene as the yelling went on. Just as you stood up though, the car started speeding out. Lizzy kicked the trunk of it as it left.

You didn't know what to do when she walked in shaking. Tears were streaming down her face but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

She walked to the back aisles, where the coffee bar was. She poured herself a king sized cup before taking some steps through a few more aisles. Lizzy started walking towards the counter to you, her gaze avoidant as she huddled in on herself.