It was 11pm on a warm summer night, and Mikey was at a gas station, sitting down on the pavement of the curb outside the glass sliding doors. The constant hum of the city was faintly audible, and the breeze soothed him. He had a drink by his side, a peach soda, which had gone both warm and flat a long time ago. He was watching people coming and going between him and the big digital screen showing the fuel prices in bright LED lights. He saw someone approaching. They seemed different somehow.