Girls sprouting curves boys wearing rolled up tees mimicking young James Dean While she just stayed the same life was not such a boon for a boring girl named Jejune
On the bottom again, thank goodness. There’s at least seven old junkards on top of me. I can see myself in the reflection of their broken windows. I can’t believe that’s me.
I was a car salesman’s dream. When I arrived to the showroom from Michigan, I was handled with kid-gloves, literally. Anyone who touched me or worked on me had to wear special gloves so my new paint, Aqua 100, wouldn’t get smudged. scratched or damaged.
A young man sauntered into the showroom during one of the hottest days that summer. He looked at me and we fell in love immediately. He was glorious. He didn’t haggle, hesitate or argue. He asked the salesman how much I cost, pulled out his wallet and paid full price for me on the spot.
We drove all the way to the shore with my windows down and my new age A.R.C. Stereo Tape Deck blaring at the top of my volume knob. He sang along with every song, even the oldies. To say I was in automobile heaven couldn’t describe the wonderful times we had.
That man and I stayed together even after his hair turned all white and he couldn’t sing anymore. My paint had faded to near white too, but he still looked at me with love in his eyes.
Sometimes he’d sit in the drivers seat and pretend we were on the road again, even though neither of us ran at all anymore. Then he was gone and a big yellow truck came and pulled me away. All of my once lovely chrome was yanked away from my body and parts of my motor disemboweled, before I was put on a rickety old flatbed and brought here.
It’s almost my time beneath the crusher. But look, it’s the man and does he ever look dapper and he’s swinging my keys just like the first day he purchased me. I hope we get to put the windows down again.
In response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers Challenge 02/10/23to write a complete story in 100 words or less with a Beginning, Middle and End, using the picture prompt above.
He was tired. Frustrated. Angry and now, hopeful. She had left him a message. He didn’t know how she managed, yet each time he was on the very verge of giving up, she wrangled a way to drop a clue, leave a sign that he was on the right track. That she was still alive.
It had only been one night. An accidental meeting that had completely altered his life. They’d danced, eaten unfamiliar foods and tried a myriad of exotic tropical drinks. They had spent an otherworldly night together on his yacht, and then she was gone.
The strip of paper changed from blood red to neon green the minute the switch was released allowing the air to escape. Vision cleared, the toxic gas disappeared and they were safe.
The bright display on the PCE-PCO 2 RH Data Logger revealed a positive atmospheric status. The Commander lifted his left hand, with a firm thumbs-up show of success and the troops went wild.
Tala and Koda Photographed by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
💜 Tala and Koda after a hard day of running, playing, eating. getting brushed, getting kisses and digging up my backyard little hole after little hole at a time, did I mention eating? 💜
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 