THE HEAVENTREE OF STARS HUNG WITH HUMID NIGHTBLUE FRUIT

KELLY WORKS THE NIGHT SHIFT. SHE STOCKS THE BEERS THEN DRINKS ONE IN THE BREAKROOM. HER PHONE DIED ON THE DRIVE OVER. SHE KEEPS TAPPING HER POCKET AND FINDING THAT IT'S NOT THERE. THE FUCKING MUSIC. SHE GOES OUT AND SMOKES BY THE GAS TANKS AND OFFERS TO PUMP THE GAS FOR A CUSTOMER EVEN THOUGH IT'S ILLEGAL BECAUSE SHE'S BORED. THE CUSTOMER IS DRUNK IN A WHOLESOME AND UNTHREATENING AND THOROUGHLY PROFESSIONAL WAY. HE CRANKS THE SEAT BACK AND FALLS ASLEEP. HE STAYS THERE SLEEPING LONG AFTER KELLY FINISHES PUMPING THE GAS. SHE GRINDS HER CIGARETTE OUT ON THE PUMP. SHE TAPS HER POCKET. BENEATH THE GASOLINE THE AIR SMELLS LEADEN. SHE TAPS HER POCKET. PINE TREES LOOK LIKE CARTOON MOUNTAINS WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN. SHE'S OUT OF CIGARETTES. THERE'S SMOKE ABOVE THE TREELINE. THE MAN IS SNORING. SHE GOES AROUND AND OPENS THE PASSENGER SIDE DOOR AND SITS INSIDE AND CRANKS THE SEAT BACK AND LOOKS UP AT THE UPHOLSTERY CEILING. SHE CAN'T SEE THE STARS.