The Life and Times of Rose

Work Parking Lot:

The students are back. They descend upon our parking lot like new born crabs, scuttling under foot. Minus a care in the world or a shred of value for their lives.
The car next to me is close. Like, so close I curse the amount of food I ate last night as I unceremoniously shimmy into the drivers seat and shut the door behind me.
A student walks past my car in the passenger side. As I put my key in the ignition, I hear a thunk, and look up to see my side mirror flipped in towards the door.
While looking at it, I see a hesitant body move back towards my car. A youthful face peers into the window at me. I know full well I am giving him a look. A look notorious to my face to be titled The Look. An irritated eyebrow might be raised, a narrowing if the eye lids, an intensity within the eyes to melt glaciers. Or some such thing, I’ve never seen The Look myself.
The student gives me a wide eyed, awkward smile. He apologizes and flips the mirror back into place. He even takes the time to give it a little wipe before he hurries off.
I start my car, shimmy it out of its spot, and slowly inch out of the parking lot, dodging baby crabs the whole way.

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