“The coffee Mrs. Gibson had offered him had been regular coffee, not one of those flavored ones, but so weak he could see the bottom of the cup through the liquid. He needed caffeine. Mickey D made good coffee, and he didn’t want to risk another convenience store. A drive-through had to be as uneventful as possible, right?The cashier, a gangly teenage girl who looked about six feet tall, slid the window open. “Cream or sugar?” she asked, then widened her already slightly protruding eyes and roll...ed them twice toward the direction of the counter before mouthing Call the cops.“No, just black,” he replied as he gave the interior of the restaurant a quick survey. Everyone behind the counter was standing stiffly, instead of dodging around filling orders as they usually did. He couldn’t see many of the customers, but the ones he could see were doing the same thing: standing still.No fucking way. Not again. What were the odds?“Shit on a fucking stick,” he muttered, fighting the urge to beat his head on the steering wheel.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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