I went to the Ashur Liquor store up the street from my house, and as I was walking I saw this gorgeous, pristine, sexy little sports car in the parking lot.
I stood there for quite some time, before I went into the store to get some lovely sangria the purveyor had turned me onto a week before. As I was coming back, I stopped again and marveled at this wondrous car. I wanted it. Bad. Next thing I knew, the owner of the car (perhaps 20 years old), came up to me and asked me what I was thinking. I said that I’ve always wanted a car like that, and that I would love to have one. We talked at length. He seemed so happy that someone was loving his car. I thanked him and started walking home.
As I was walking home, a young man drove up in a car that had a bashed-in passenger side that was rightfully scary. He asked me if I liked HIS car, and I laughed. He asked me if I wanted a ride. I said I probably wouldn’t get into a car with someone whose passenger side door was inoperable, but I thanked him for the offer.
As he drove away, I continued to walk home. A man approached me. He looked discombobulated. I asked if he was all right. He said he’d had a bad day, and I asked him why. He said it was complicated.
I told him I appreciated his dilemma, but I’m going home, and I wished him well. We went our separate ways.
This is absolutely a true story.