𝔼𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕣 𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕨 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣. The owner, an incredibly sweet elderly man, offered her a part-time position that was surprisingly flexible. She started work on Tuesday, leaving her with a four-day weekend.
She left the Gas N' Gulp content that Friday, as for the next four days she would have all to herself. Walking to her newly repaired 1996 Honda Odyssey, she got in and buckled up.
Humming to herself, she traced the pink, fuzzy steering wheel cover as she glanced around the interior of her Bratz-themed car. The seat covers were lilac and covered in sequins, and her air freshener smelled like strawberries. Around her rear-view mirror, dangled a crochet cherry.
Her car was a reflection of her, a bit cluttered, and semi-chaotic, but still remained incredibly soft and feminine.
Starting the engine, her radio turned on and she was met with some old, conspiracy theorist radio station. The southern man rambled on and on, about which, Estrella was unsure. She left it on, finding the station interesting.
I fuckin' love those stations, so much chaos.God, it's like a Disney pitch meeting, minus the swearing and coffee pot-throwing.
Off Estrella went, driving through various streets and intersections as she made her way to Wade's apartment.
Driving in New York, was always a pain in the ass. The traffic was absolutely terrible, and the people were even worse, they wouldn't think twice about cursing you out for missing a turn or driving too slow.
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Laura was home alone.
Following the arrival of Emma's maternal aunt, now legal guardian, the apartment down the hall had been emptied.
