She parked the blue sedan in the front spot, two inches from each of the freshly painted white lines. A cautionary sign reading “Wet Pain” dotted the neatly manicured grass. I wondered about the missing t. Serendipity, I suspected, the unidentified groundkeepers more in tune with my predicament than friends and family.
The girl didn’t seem to notice the sign or the paint. Perhaps she simply did not care. Present for a purpose and an unidentified fee, she was determined to deliver. She opened the driver"s-side door and placed her four-inch heels directly on the fresh marks. She navigated the freshly painted line like a balance beam, walking three steps to the back, and opening the rear door. “Come on, baby,” she whispered, then bent and swiped a finger on the paint. She sniffed it, though
