When the engine had started to overheat they had pulled into an abandoned roadhouse service station. It looked deserted, the Texaco sign was faded and...broken, hanging drunkenly from a rickety pole. The dusty driveway was choked with weeks, the ancient gas pumps were rusted; the hoses had been ripped off them likely by some scavenger. The awning over the gas pumps was equally corroded; holed and lopsided, almost ready to collapse, but at least it provided shade.Not that the day was particularly. I also still felt like shit, drugs or no drugs."Hardly, just something I could do." She said."Do you live here," I allowed Jeremy to ask questions to which I already knew the answer."No dear, I live in Metropolis. I was born here, so I came in to see how my money was being spent." Then she turned to me. "I heard the young man call you Sylvia and with that hand, that would probably make you Sylvia Porter." It would indeed. I already had the flu, but thanks for the aid you are providing to the. More

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