I crawled over the seat and opened the door on Momma’s side, got out and slammed it shut. Right away the Orange Man bumped into me. I went five fingers flat into a pool of oil. The oil was warm with purple and yellow wavy lines. “Uh oh, son!” The Orange Man said. “I didn’t see you there.” He had a warm friendly voice. He reached down a hand with freckles and hair, pulled me up and set me safely on my feet. His face had a million freckles. He wiped my hand with the blue rag. “You okay kiddo?” “Yeah,” I said. “I ain’t hurt or anything. Where’d you get that horse at Mister?” The Orange Man smiled. “What horse?” “That one!” I pointed up at his ball cap. He took it off, looked at the winged horse on the front and pretended to frown. “Well. This is a Mobil horse. It’s on all our signs. We sell Mobil Gas here. See that.” He pointed out the word Mobilgas sown in black thread under the winged horse. I liked the way he smiled, all warm and sunshiny-like. I could feel myself smiling back. He popped the ball cap back on his head. “You ever pump gasoline son?” “No.” I looked at the gas pumps; guards standing there, not saying a word. “I ain’t big enough. My stepdaddy says I’m a runt.” “Well, you are pretty small.” “I’m nine years old.” “Nine?” “Yeah.” “Well you better come on with me then,” the Orange Man said. - from Then Like the Blind Man / on Kindle Nation Daily @ bit.ly/ZywB0o
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 17:17:50 +0000
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