The Night Shift

I work the night shift at the Sunoco gas station off Route 66 in Ohio. It's 1978, and the weather is getting cold. My wife Sarah works at the grocery store and gets off at six. She drives twenty minutes to get home.

November 14th. Sarah doesn't come home on time. She comes home at eleven. She says the store closed early. I notice her skin feels a little rough, like hardened leather. She won't eat dinner. She drinks a glass of water. She looks out the window at the sky in a way I've never seen before. I don't ask.

November 15th. I make her coffee in the morning, like always. She drinks it black, two sugars. We watch the news. A storm is moving in from the west.

November 20th. Sarah doesn't eat human food anymore. She opens the refrigerator, looks at the things inside, and closes it. She goes to the backyard and digs a worm out of the dirt and eats it raw. I see her through the kitchen window. I keep eating my oatmeal.

November 25th. Sarah stops sleeping. She sits in the living room all night, looking at the sky. I notice her pupils dilate abnormally in the dark. They're like cat eyes. I say nothing. I go to work at the station. I pump gas. I collect money. I go home.

December 1st. Sarah doesn't sleep. She watches the sky. I watch her watch the sky. We don't talk about it.

December 10th. A truck stops at the station. The driver asks me how far it is to Cleveland. I say two hundred miles. He pays me with a crumpled five-dollar bill. I give him change. He drives away. Sarah is in the kitchen making tea. She doesn't drink tea. She's making it for someone who isn't there.

December 15th. A ship appears in the sky. It's big and silver and hangs three hundred meters above the station. I see it from behind the gas pump. Sarah comes out of the house and stands in the middle of the parking lot, looking up. She starts crying. Not fear. Recognition. Like seeing someone she hasn't seen in a long time.

The ship stays for three minutes. Then it's gone.

Sarah goes inside. She showers. She changes clothes. The next morning, she goes to work at the grocery store. I go to work at the station. Nobody talks about the ship.

March 3rd, 1979. It's 3 AM. A pickup truck pulls in. The driver is a young man with tired eyes. He asks me if things like that happen often around here. I ask him what he means. He points at the sky. I think about it. I say no, not often.

I keep pumping gas. The nozzle clicks off. The engine starts. The truck drives away. I go back inside the station and make a cup of coffee. I sit at the counter and watch the rain hit the window.

That's it. That's the whole story.

OTMES v2 Codes:
M1=1.0 M2=1.0 M3=2.0 M4=1.0 M5=2.0 M6=1.0 M7=2.0 M8=1.0 M9=2.0 M10=1.0
N1=0.2 N2=0.5 N3=0.9 N4=0.3 N5=0.3
I1=0.1 I2=0.0 I3=0.1 I4=0.1
Theta=225.0 R=0.0 TI=15.0

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