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Weekly Contest #345
“God damn it!”The stink of motor oil kept my nostrils twitching.It really was time to turn in that piece of junk.Do you really think I am a piece of junk?The old Buick’s headlights stared back at me and I sighed.“Of course not, old girl. I’m just tired.”Another twitch. Maybe a hint of diesel? How many leaks could a car have and still run? Well, all this sweat and other stuff sure are not helping either.“Alright, Oliver. You can do this.”Talking to myself in the third person? That was a new low.Hard to believe, but it seems the loneliness was...
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