Rest Stop

by Nat Cassidy

Trauma’s trauma, but I think some people are still just born assholes.”

Safe inside the store—so bright, so blissfully cool after even just a few moments of the muggy summer air—and he feels better. Sometimes capitalism knows how to hold you just right.

When evil comes, Abraham, it does not wear a mask. It looks as plain as day.

“If we’re going to do this,” Abe announces, “let’s do this.” “Okay,” a voice answers from the other side of the store. Muffled behind plastic. “Gimme a sec. I want you to tell me if something looks cool.”

me as a killer still seeking validation

“My face,” the clerk says, “is everything now. Even your face! Do you see? Did it look cool?” “Sure. Cool.” “Awesome. Okay!” The clerk holds up a knife. The biggest knife in the world. He waggles it, tantalizingly. “Still wanna ‘do this?’”

lmfao