A drabble. (100 word story)
I’m trying to simplify, but my attention gets drawn to a mountain bike abandoned in the yard.
Beside it is a dead squirrel on the curb, eyes shut tight.
From the window of a pickup a heavy guy with shaved head shouts. His buddy’s Honda Civic won’t start.
“Gun it!” he screams, as if hollering will help.
Shaved head guy drives off. Kid Honda stares dumbly at the steering wheel. Then he flicks the ignition again.
This time it starts. Oily fumes reach my front porch. I feel stuck inside something sticky.
The Honda slides away, like exiting a dream.
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