Flat
Title: Flat
Word Count: 747
Author's Notes: Based on a Wednesday night two weeks past, though I have altered a few things for the sake of flow and tension.
The wind hit me like an overly enthusiastic bear hug when I walked out of the bar. I tried a few times to pull my hood over my head before giving it up as a lost cause. Waving to my companion, I hunched my shoulders against the cold and took off around the corner. My parking meter should only have expired ten minutes past, I could get away without a ticket if I was lucky...
A small piece of red paper fluttered on my windshield, trapped under a wiper.
“Seriously? You can’t give me ten fucking minutes grace?” No one was around to hear the words, but I said them anyway. My stomach growled. “Shut up,” I told it. Money was tight enough that I’d ordered nothing but water at the networking event I’d just attended, and now here were all my efforts down the drain.
I jumped in the car and slammed the door, shivering. Now let’s see, to get out of here I just needed to be going in the opposite direction down to that weird one way street and... thump. Then the distinct sound of something being dragged under my car. I slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel over to the curb. What the fuck?
The problem was all too obvious as soon as I got back out. My back passenger tire was completely flat. I actually jumped up and down, cursing a blue streak and kicking the offending piece of rubber. It remained stubbornly resistant to my rage.
I dove toward the trunk, rooting around for the release to the panel hiding my spare tire. It was ten pm and I was a woman alone with a non-functional vehicle in the middle of downtown Atlanta. It didn’t matter that I’d never changed a tire and had only the vaguest idea of how to do so - I needed to get it on and get out of there ASAP.
“Excuse me, are you all right? Do you need a hand with that?”
I looked up from wrestling my spare out of the trunk to see two men standing on the sidewalk next to my car.
“I’ve got Triple A coming, but I figured I’d get a start on it myself,” I lied.
“Triple A, they take forever and they charge you an arm and a leg,” the shorter man replied. “We’ll get you set up, if you’d like.”
I glanced up and down the street and did some quick mental calculations. There was no one else in sight, but I was only 50 feet from the intersection with a four lane road... I could run if I had to. And when it came down to it, I didn’t know that I trusted my ability to put a tire on without leaving some bolt loose. As shitty as this situation was, it would be far shittier if the tire actually came off while I was driving.
“That would be great, thank you.”
The shorter man took the tire and moved around to the flat. I grabbed the tools from the space under the tire and followed him, trying to act like I knew what I was doing. It soon became excruciatingly clear that I didn’t.
“There’s a flat panel under the door that you’ll want to brace the jack against,” the taller man said, indicating the spot with his hand. I fumbled, my fingers long past numb. “I’ll get it.”
I stood back and shoved my hands in my pockets, watching as the two men made short work of the job. Less than three minutes later, they were checking the bolts a final time and standing back to admire their handiwork.
“That’ll need air before you drive far on it, but it’ll get you down to the gas station,” the taller man said. “You know where it is?”
“I don’t,” I admitted.
“It’s just down to the end of this road, take a right and then another. You’ll see it after the first, though.”
“Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much!”
“Not a problem.” We shook hands and exchanged smiles all around, and then I hopped in the car. As I pulled away they were already walking on toward wherever they had been heading, and I waved at their retreating backs.
It wasn’t until later, when I had gotten home and was willing my water to boil faster so that I could eat, that I realized I didn’t even know their names.
Word Count: 747
Author's Notes: Based on a Wednesday night two weeks past, though I have altered a few things for the sake of flow and tension.
The wind hit me like an overly enthusiastic bear hug when I walked out of the bar. I tried a few times to pull my hood over my head before giving it up as a lost cause. Waving to my companion, I hunched my shoulders against the cold and took off around the corner. My parking meter should only have expired ten minutes past, I could get away without a ticket if I was lucky...
A small piece of red paper fluttered on my windshield, trapped under a wiper.
“Seriously? You can’t give me ten fucking minutes grace?” No one was around to hear the words, but I said them anyway. My stomach growled. “Shut up,” I told it. Money was tight enough that I’d ordered nothing but water at the networking event I’d just attended, and now here were all my efforts down the drain.
I jumped in the car and slammed the door, shivering. Now let’s see, to get out of here I just needed to be going in the opposite direction down to that weird one way street and... thump. Then the distinct sound of something being dragged under my car. I slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel over to the curb. What the fuck?
The problem was all too obvious as soon as I got back out. My back passenger tire was completely flat. I actually jumped up and down, cursing a blue streak and kicking the offending piece of rubber. It remained stubbornly resistant to my rage.
I dove toward the trunk, rooting around for the release to the panel hiding my spare tire. It was ten pm and I was a woman alone with a non-functional vehicle in the middle of downtown Atlanta. It didn’t matter that I’d never changed a tire and had only the vaguest idea of how to do so - I needed to get it on and get out of there ASAP.
“Excuse me, are you all right? Do you need a hand with that?”
I looked up from wrestling my spare out of the trunk to see two men standing on the sidewalk next to my car.
“I’ve got Triple A coming, but I figured I’d get a start on it myself,” I lied.
“Triple A, they take forever and they charge you an arm and a leg,” the shorter man replied. “We’ll get you set up, if you’d like.”
I glanced up and down the street and did some quick mental calculations. There was no one else in sight, but I was only 50 feet from the intersection with a four lane road... I could run if I had to. And when it came down to it, I didn’t know that I trusted my ability to put a tire on without leaving some bolt loose. As shitty as this situation was, it would be far shittier if the tire actually came off while I was driving.
“That would be great, thank you.”
The shorter man took the tire and moved around to the flat. I grabbed the tools from the space under the tire and followed him, trying to act like I knew what I was doing. It soon became excruciatingly clear that I didn’t.
“There’s a flat panel under the door that you’ll want to brace the jack against,” the taller man said, indicating the spot with his hand. I fumbled, my fingers long past numb. “I’ll get it.”
I stood back and shoved my hands in my pockets, watching as the two men made short work of the job. Less than three minutes later, they were checking the bolts a final time and standing back to admire their handiwork.
“That’ll need air before you drive far on it, but it’ll get you down to the gas station,” the taller man said. “You know where it is?”
“I don’t,” I admitted.
“It’s just down to the end of this road, take a right and then another. You’ll see it after the first, though.”
“Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much!”
“Not a problem.” We shook hands and exchanged smiles all around, and then I hopped in the car. As I pulled away they were already walking on toward wherever they had been heading, and I waved at their retreating backs.
It wasn’t until later, when I had gotten home and was willing my water to boil faster so that I could eat, that I realized I didn’t even know their names.