Into the Whirlpool

(4:30 AM)
I'm parked at the gas station in Stoneham in the middle of the night. Not sure why, but my car is parked parallel to the road, meaning I'd need to turn my car 90 degrees to the left if I actually wanted to get gas. I decide to pull forward and turn left at the nearest pump, but as I'm about to do this another car suddenly approaches me head-on and stops a short ways away, blocking my path. I swear under my breath. The car is white? with several indistinct dark-skinned people inside. I put the car in reverse and roll backward 20 feet or so, still muttering to myself. Not sure which pump I want to use, which is bothering me since I hate when my plans are messed up, even little things like this. I start to turn the car and suddenly notice a couple things about the gas station. First is the strange interplay of light and shadow on the ground: there are dark pools on the asphalt that must be puddles of water, but they melt from black to gray with a viscosity that suggests oil mixed with mist. Second, I suddenly realize it is completely silent. There is no traffic audible from the road, no birds, no sound at all. I briefly wonder to myself whether time has stopped outside the gas station, and the notion fascinates me.