You arrive at a gas station, one of those where there is no one. Next to the pump, a boy who doesn't have money for gasoline, watching the hours and the people pass in front of his eyes almost closed.

He's just sitting, on the hood of his van, maybe waiting, maybe just thinking. Playing with the car key.

People ignore him, who knows what he is doing or why he is here.

His legs swing, knees out, barely contained in the torn pants.

“Hello?” he calls out, noticing your staring.