The day started like any other, coaxing the kids out of bed, watching them practically sleep thru what little breakfast she could get them to eat and drive them to school. It was on the way home she noticed the car following her.

She didn't really think that the car was following her, at first. Her route home had her following a couple major roads for a few different stretches of time, so she didn't think much when the charcoal-grey truck made the same few turns she did to get onto the next road. The same thing had happened just the other day, and that car had turned off long before she got home. But then she realised that she needed to fill up her tank---she had to watch her gasoline consumption more closely, if she cut down on it she'd be able to save so much more money---and with a sigh she'd turned onto the lesser road she knew lead to a gas station.

And the grey car followed.

Again, she didn't think much of it. Maybe the driver needed gas as well, or maybe she lived in one of the sparse, squalid houses scattered along the road. Maybe she was going somewhere that laid beyond the gas station, which was the furthest she herself had ever gone. She shook off the lingering fear and pulled into the station, and the car pulled in behind but did not stop at a pump. Instead, it pulled ahead and stopped in one of the few empty parking spaces. The driver did not get out. She had to fight the urge to look behind herself when she finally pulled out of the gas station. She knew either way that the charcoal grey car was following close behind. Maybe it wasn't really following her.