Keys, glasses inna teef, laptop bag oh... ver my shoulder, phone to pocket, iPod stowed, coffee perched, door phuump mostly masks the sneaky crinkle of brown pastry paper as the remaining third of my no-sugar banana nut cake bounces once, skitters left on-edge and squirrels under the fucking car.
It took longer than ten seconds to fully grasp what I'd seen; ten seconds more for my eyes to adjust to conditions beneath the Civic... there!
In the low buzzy light of the garage the semi-shiny welcome mat-sized stain didn't quite look like oil... maybe cola, maybe...
Maybe I should accept the loss and move on.
No comments:
Post a Comment