Rowland Books Melanie Mansfield
I remember it like it never happened, but of course it did. I had just come out of the salon after arguing with my stylist over whether or not the cut she had just given me made my face look fat or "full". *rolls eyes* Anyway, there I was standing next to the curb trying to remember where I parked the car.

I heard you before I saw you. That high pitched, but not too shrill voice yelling at a meter maid for ticketing you because your quarter ran out as you were unlocking your door. I remember how odd it was to me because I'd never before seen meters in our small Southern town, and somehow you had seemed to park in front of the only one, which is why the "officer" was overly-anxious to pass out the yellow slip of paper.

I felt sorry for you since it seemed that every other person around us had the ability to park and stay at their leisure, but I felt more sorry for me because I still couldn't locate my station wagon... wait... I mean my baby blue VW Beatle. Fearing that I'd need to ask someone for yet another ride home, I made my way over to your car as the meter maid was stomping away triumphantly. You turned to face at me just as I was about to tap you on the shoulder and the look in your eyes made it clear that I needed to just move along and ask someone else for help. Thinking back, though, it may have just been the sun.

Suddenly, and without warning, the large delivery truck that had been double parked in front of the local Laundromat delivering new dryers so that people could finally wash and dry, cranked up it's engine and pulled slowly away, leaving behind a large puff of smoke and a clear >view of my car parked on the other side of the road. You asked me, at that point, if I was lost. I happily replied, "Not today" and trotted off to my little Bug where I drove safely home.

THE END

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