MV3 🦁 CL16 Formula 1 & NH🎶

I know I'm not the only one when talking to my crush the hair at the back of my scalp all of a sudden needs a lot of assurance.

Not that he could do that anyway—they didn't book a hotel. Max's father is heading all the way back to Belgium without him, and even with the sturdiest shoes in the world, Max wouldn't be able to walk there. Not from Italy.

He looks around the small fuel station where he's been left, trying to tamp down his steadily growing panic by taking stock and trying to formulate a plan.

There's one car fueling at the pump, and one car pulled into a parking space, its owner presumably in the little shop, grabbing a snack or taking a piss. Max has the fleeting thought that he could probably hotwire the car and steal it—he's never done it before, but he knows enough about cars that he could probably figure it out, and, once he's started it, he knows how to drive exceptionally well. He might be able to just get himself home by trailing the exhaust fumes of his father's van.

The door to the fueling car slams, making Max jump and snapping him into reality. Far, far too many things could go wrong with that plan. Even if he miraculously doesn't get caught and arrested right here and now, he could still be in trouble later on. And that's not even taking into consideration the fact he wouldn't have enough gas to get him home, which could leave him stranded yet again in the middle of Europe, possibly in an even worse place.

He turns his attention to the little store instead. He doesn't have any money—doesn't even have any pockets—so he can't buy anything. But maybe there will be a phone inside that he can use. He could ask, and then call... whom? Call his father, beg him to come back? Hope beyond hope that he will? Call his mother, who is all the way back home? Who might not be able to help even if she wanted to?

Or maybe... Max has never shoplifted before, but maybe...

He doesn't know. He can't think too far ahead—can't panic, can't freeze. He doesn't know what to do, but he can't think about that, because then he'll just be stuck doing nothing. He needs to do something. The sun is still up, but it won't be forever. He's a little bit hungry, and that will only get worse. He doesn't know exactly what to do, but he has to do something, so he puts one foot in front of the other.

The shop—unsurprisingly—is nearly empty. The shopkeeper greets Max in Italian as he enters, and the only other person Max can see is a woman staring intensely at a shelf of snacks. The parked car must belong to her.

Max keeps his feet moving and finds himself in the middle of an aisle, hidden from view from the others, breathing unsteady. What should he do?