When I went home this weekend, I took a rag to Baby Blue. I shined her until she gleamed and changed the oil. I was in the garage a long time, but doing this felt good. After I was satisfied, we went for a ride. It was just around the block because we were both getting back on our feet.
And it felt good.
I felt good.
Tomorrow looks better. But if not tomorrow, maybe the next tomorrow.
It's a strange thought.
YOU ARE READING
Minnesota Goodbyes
Teen FictionM., a college sophomore, is haunted by the events of a year ago that ended another girl's life. In an attempt to clear her conscience, she writes her confession down in a battered notebook addressed to a stranger. This search for redemption is far m...
