Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

6. Parked

Weeks later

As I sit at a red light, I pick up a Milky Way wrapper from my car's cup holder. God knows this isn't mine and it's not supposed to be in here. 

"Have you been eating in my car?" I snap as Ella sits in the passenger seat; bashful as she pinches her lips together. "I said you could use my car, but-"

"The only rule is that you can't eat in it." She speaks with a high pitch as she looks at the roof. Her voice returns to normal to claim, "Yes, I know."

"Then, why are you eating in here?" I flick the wrapper in her face. She snatches it before it hits her lap. "Ugh." While I'm checking my left-hand mirror for clearance, I hear her tapping buttons.

"Turn off the child's lock. Damn." The frustration is evident in her voice. Don't get mad at me. If you were smart, you would have been tossed the wrapper.

"Why are you eating in here?" I turn off the lock. She lets down the window to get rid of the trash. "Global warming," I mumble.

"Because I got hungry Angel!" She leans into my face. 

We argue more like sisters than best friends. We both know we're stuck together for the rest of our lives.

"I can't stand you." I pass a green light.

"I don't see how you mastered driving out here. I've almost died 5 times."

"It's not that bad."

"Thank you for taking me to work."

"You got 3 tickets." I scrunch up my face at the praise. "It was time for me to take over." You suck out here. This isn't a privilege.

"Cherie will bring me home." She zips up her purse as I pull over.

"Have a good day." I lazily suspire as I lean against my window.

"Thanks, you too. Dinner is on me tonight." Ella jumps out in her blue, work uniform then closes the door.

After seeing a Starbucks across the street, I park my car. Why bother going on the other side of town when I can get something here? I'll take a coffee cake and brownie for the road.

Getting out of my jeep, I peep a meter. Ugh. The devil always has to play a part in my day. Snatching my purse from the seat, I dig through from loose change. Then, I remember I used it on a bubblegum machine yesterday. Welp! Hmm... the line isn't too long and I don't see anyone chec— I run to the curb and towards the store.

Opening the door, I look back again. No meter reader. As I'm in line, I familiarize myself with the divergent shop. It's busier in here, but the line is moving at a fleet pace.

The man sitting beside me is reading a newspaper. Do people still do that? What is it, '93? Another woman is under a chair searching for an outlet. Someone is attending a rock concert between their headphones. I see a fellow tapping away on his laptop. He seems to be diligent in whatever he's doing. As I step forward, I look back at the tapping guy, Marcel. Just like Lana mentioned, switching shops wouldn't have done us justice.

Someone else catches my eye, a meter reader. She's just a few cars behind mine. OH NO! OH NO! Clutching my keys, I ditch the java and treats to get back to my illegally parked car.

At work, I had to sit in a meeting with one of our authors, Jake Clayton. His book, Legacies will be hitting shelves next week. It's a fantasy story. Not really my genre, but I did pack it into my purse to skim through during lunch breaks.