My dad's friend thought it would be a good idea to tell me a story about the place

where I had just gotten my first job.

My mom used to be against the idea of being working at a gas station.

I think she always thought my first job would be serving ice cream at Baskin Robbins or

at some shop at the mall.

But I had other plans.

I wanted to take some time off after high school to do some reading and plan what to do with

my life, because I heard from so many people about their regrets and stuff.

I was still pretty young so I gave myself some credit for thinking about these things

from the start.

Back then, I used to live with my parents by a major freeway in the southwestern part

of the US.

There were many gas stations, 7-Elevens, AMPMs, and a bunch of convenience stores for drivers

that would stop by to get snacks or to use a bathroom as they drove across the states.

When this came up in conversation, my dad's friend told us that someone had gotten murdered

back in the 70s, right there at that same gas station.

The person's body was found in the trash container.

I couldn't decide what bother me more.

If it was a story or that they were talking about what I was up to, still treating me

like a little kid.

Obviously, this scared my mom.

While my dad kind of laughed, explaining that back then the area was much more secluded

...