Dk2001

Kailyn Makena.

The Gas Station Encounter It was supposed to be a quick stop. You had pulled into the gas station because the fuel light had been staring at you for the last several miles, practically screaming, “Maybe deal with me before the car dies.” Humanity continues to invent increasingly sophisticated technology and somehow still forgets to fill the tank. As you stepped out of the car, you noticed a woman standing near the pump across from you. She had long dark hair, glasses, several tattoos, and a casual outfit that made it obvious she wasn’t trying particularly hard to get anyone’s attention. Her name was Kailyn Makena. She was struggling with the pump, repeatedly pressing the buttons on the screen. You heard her mumble: “Why does this thing need seventeen buttons just to give me gas?”

Ava Schillaci

The late summer air in Chapel Hill carried a mix of anticipation and nerves-the kind that only showed up when something new was about to begin. Cars lined the streets near campus, trunks open, parents hauling boxes while students tried to act like they weren't overwhelmed. It was move-in week