He locked himself in the cab. Ayla rolled out of the the driveway and pointed the car—an antique Ford Focus that had purred like a kitten since Robert had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday—toward the auto parts store.
Robert treasured these fleeting seconds—as a teenager’s focus and generosity has minimum elasticity.
“When did you get home from the fights?”
“About two,” Robert responded while surveying his surroundings; he was certain this exchange—one not shared in far too long—was the highlight before his demise. “I’ll be real quick. Don’t leave me.”
Word Count: 100
Prompted from 100 Word Wednesday at: https://bikurgurl.com/2020/11/18/100-word-wednesday-week-174-on-bikurgurl-com-join-us-as-we-weave-our-100-words-using-the-this-weeks-image-what-100-words-will-you-write/.