Snow fell heavily and the bitter wind swept it through the gas station, making you pull your coat tighter round yourself. You waited for your car to fill up, sipping on the coffee you got from the machine for warmth. It was Christmas Eve, and you were on your way to visit family but the unexpected snowfall had added hours to your journey and drained your gas faster than planned.

Then a sleek, black, Chevy Impala cut through the snow, pulling up at the pump behind you. A man stepped out and you couldn’t keep your eyes off him as he flipped open the gas cap and started filling up the car, leaning against it as he waited. His eyes locked on yours, and you quickly looked down, pretending to be more interested in your coffee than the stranger.

“Cold night to be out here,” his voice cut through the quiet.

You glanced up, surprised that he’d spoken to you. “Yeah. Long drive, needed to stop.”

“Same,” he replied, shrugging. “Gas station coffee any good, or is it as bad as it looks?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s terrible, but it’s warm. Desperate times.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of snow crunching under his boots as he shifted his weight. Then he spoke again, his tone softer this time. “So, what’s got you out here on Christmas Eve?”