~*~
Age had folded her face – maybe late fifties. She pulled her Solara up next to me and walked to a shop several doors down in the strip mall.
She left the keys in the ignition, the car running.
I could steal that car.
It would be so easy. Five, maybe ten seconds and I could be gone.
The few people around would never notice.
She returned less than a minute later, clutching a box of cigarettes. Behind the steering wheel, she lit a butt before backing out. No seatbelt.
Does she know how close to the edge she lives?
~*~
Posted by Barbara 