The Good Samaritan

Cold seeps in. Deep – penetrating. It threatens to misalign my persona. I’m worried it will end up in a disagreeable state. Not that I haven’t already been accused of being disagreeable from time to time. But to end up as a malformed Popsicle after having been half melted, pressurized and then flash-frozen into a grotesque facsimile of my former self seriously disturbs me.

I was once open-minded and optimistic. The world was mine for the taking. But then life got in the way of my plans. How I ended up in this frozen wasteland is a story I only partially remember.

There was a knock on the door. I should have never opened it. A woman with well-placed morals in need of a spare tire. What was supposed to be a quick fix, attach a jack, loosen a few lug nuts, and inflate a sad, white sidewall, unexpectedly turned out to be a redirected life path decision. As payment for being a good Samaritan. . . By the way, Did I mention that my name is Sam? So as payment, she wanted to take me to dinner. I wasn’t even hungry. So why did I get in the car?

The view from my window had been obscured by the overnight growth of hoarfrost. I paced the room and waited.

To be continued!