Parking at Work

I park my car in the same place at work every day. When I leave work, I know exactly where to find my car. No wandering, no wondering. It’s like a reserved spot awarded without the 30 years service (or convenience).

Yesterday, I parked a little further over, to the left of a car I recognized. It belongs to my friend Paul, and it’s decorated with a number of stickers. I hopped out and left my even more bestickered car to spend its day in the bright autumn sunlight.

That afternoon, I emerge from the artifically lit tunnel that houses my cubicle and all its business accoutrement. The setting sun dazzles my eyes, I glance around, see Paul’s car, head towards it. Then I realize that the car to the left of his is not the car I parked this morning. It’s a newer version of mine, sans stickers.

Where is my car? Did someone take it? Is that…is that a replacement?! Who would have brought me a new car?

These are the thoughts that actually go thru my head in the 2 and a half seconds before I spot my car. About 3 to the right of Paul’s. Who must have gone out to lunch today. And parked deceptively close to where he had parked this morning.

I don’t know who might bring me a new car, but if you could bring me a bit more sense, I’ll see if I can put it to use.


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