He looked weary as he leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. The boy came around to my door. “How much gas do you want, mister?” ...��Fill'er up,” I said, surprised that a kid was going to pump gas rather than it being the computerized self-serve gas stations I was used to. I got out of the truck and noticed Carla looking at the old man standing in the doorway. “I'm going to check the oil,” I said to the boy. “I'll do it, mister. That's my job.” “Thanks,” I said and watched him. “You know what that is?” Mary nodded. “Yes, Sandy. It is fun.” “Yes!” Sandy crowed, triumphant. “This is what fun is!” And she showed Mary her toe with Mary’s tears glistening on it. She hadn’t even noticed she way crying. “You know what I want when I have fun?” Sandy demanded. Mary could guess, but she shook her head. “More fun!” Sandy laughed, and kicked her in the breast, harder. Suddenly Mary realised that Sandy was looking at her intently again, and Sandy’s hand was firmly between her. More

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