He stood watching the children play with the car. The car reminded him of himself. Ravaged by fate, time and humans. He still remembered the day he had left it at the crossroad, trying to escape the cops. Five years ago. Time to start afresh. Maybe he would start with finding the car’s original owners. […]
He’d never tried it. But circumstances were such that he really had no alternative. He was stuck at a party that was ending, and he didn’t have a cab. He didn’t know the hosts well enough. Hers was the last car to leave. He would attempt a pick up line, just so he’d get dropped. […]
The apartment parking slot. The kid saw him parking the two-wheeler, and asked, in all innocence “Uncle, why don’t you have a car?”. He smiled. The kid continued “I have one. All my friends have too. Only you don’t have.” He knew the kid felt sorry for him. He felt sorry for the kid too. […]