In the Footsteps of the Samaritan

I was in a hurry and sighed at the price per gallon. The term highway robbery seemed to fit. My fuel app had been glitchy for weeks. I noticed a pre-paid amount on the screen and smiled at what I assumed was a discount. A woman’s voice from the other side of the pump muttered profanities. Her hand yanked the handle back and forth between the pump and the tank of a giant red Chevy.

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