No regulars

Summer had begun a month ago, hot and dry, typical for the small town. There was a gas station, just on the outskirts of town, it catered to the ones just passing through. It was surrounded by many trees, in a lonely little spot. Away from the town, but not out of it either, just in a small little spot. There were no regulars here, just strangers. Evening was approaching as the afternoon hours slowly dwindled. Clouds had begun to roll in, the smell of rain was distant, hardly there, but there nonetheless. Low rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distant neighboring town.

The sky was no longer a soft summer blue, but a dark, mysterious grey. Rain had yet to fall but the smell of it was much more prominent and the air was so humid it felt wet. Lightning spread it’s veins, illuminating the sky in an electric blue color, soon followed by a rumble of thunder that could only mean one thing: A storm was coming, and not a small one either. One raindrop fell, and then all of them did, you couldn't see ten feet in front of you.

The gas station sat, the wind blowing the trees around it to the point where it seemed impossible that they were still standing. The owner sat watching the storm around him, he always loved them. Car after car began pulling into the parking lot, people began running in, taking cover from the hail that had started falling. The little store was packed, people were buying drinks and snacks, preparing to wait out the storm that was making driving an impossible task. The store owner smiled to the customers and welcomed everyone that came in, he talked to them and laughed with them, as they all stayed dry from the pouring rain. He always loved storms.