Fiction Friday – Second Hand

FICTION FRIDAY

Second Hand
He picks up a sausage roll from the warmer at the 7-11, pairs it with a Coke slushie, holding off from the 4-pack of V this morning. It’s half six and still half dark. He joins the procession of hi-vis at the counter paying for diesel, smokes, coffee and energy drinks. Once upon a time, when he was an apprentice, there was a hot dog roller like the Quik-E-Mart in The Simpsons. He doesn’t know anyone who ever ventured to test the boundaries of their stomach and buy a hotdog. After paying, he clocks the other regulars with a nod of the head, a second’s worth of movement as a second-hand acknowledgement. In the second it takes to pass one another, it is another second of silence he endures. Back in the ute he rips open the sausage roll packet, cracks the tomato sauce sachet and squeezes, then pauses as he feels his heart ripped open by the violence of so many silent interactions. He bites into the sausage roll, kicks over the ignition, and silently leaves the servo.

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