Thursday, July 23, 2015
Trunk, Version 2: A Six Sentence Story
"Don't be late to pick me up," he teased, since the first time he came to visit she was, indeed, late to pick him up at the airport, and she assured him she would be waiting at the gate as he walked off the plane.
He was flying in on the red eye, and the plan was that after she picked him up, they would make the nine hour drive to their hometowns to meet each other's parents; in preparation for this, she took her little two-door car for an oil change, then, because it was unseasonably warm, she decided to get the car washed as well.
Overnight, however, the spring-like weather was replaced with arctic cold, and when she went out to the car at daybreak to head to the airport, she found that water from the car wash had seeped around the gaskets in the doors and they were all frozen shut.
She cried first, because the minutes were ticking away and she was most definitely going to be late to pick him up at the airport, and then she had a brainstorm and tried the trunk, which opened with a slight crackle of ice breaking. The trunk was tiny and she was tall, but she crawled in on her hands and knees, turned over onto her back, and wiggled like a cockroach into the trunk, pressing the lever that lowered the back of the back seat flat, rolled into the car, crawled between the bucket seats and gear shift and into the driver's seat, where she started the car and took off for the airport.
In spite of her being late once again, pulling up at baggage claim to find him standing patiently, his luggage at his feet, shaking his head and smiling as she walked towards him, tears flowing, babbling about frozen doors and trunks, he knew that this blubbering mess was HIS mess, and he needed to spend the rest of his life with her.
Linking up with Ivy at Uncharted for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "trunk."