Being the last one at the gym tonight, I offered to help the
girl that works there close out by taking the garbage to the dumpster in the
back. Afterward, as I walked around the building to
the front entrance, I took a quick glance at my car.
That wasn’t there.
Holy shit, I
thought. Did I park in the back this time?
Or further out?
I never park in the back, and my car was nowhere in the
front to be found. Son of a bitch! My mind raced. What the hell did I leave in it? My cell phone? My wallet?
Thank God I didn’t have my laptop in there! Damn damn DAMN! I just bought the damn thing a month
ago! Now all I could think about is what
my mom said the day I brought my car home: “You know, Honda Accords are one of
the most-stolen cars in America.”
“Mom,” I said at the time.
“I live in Cape Coral, not friggin’ Miami.”
I couldn’t believe that my mother’s concern had come to fruition.
Pissed, I barged back in the gym,
knowing I’d have to call the police and my insurance company. I was so distracted, in fact, that I tripped
and nearly fell over…
…the bicycle I rode to the gym tonight.