Daily Detritus: Day Thirteen

The huddle of humans gathered near the large oak tree, located on the east side of the building. Their smoke break was allowed but regimented, exactly fifteen minutes, so the conversation was minimal between puffs and drags. Joey mindlessly toed a pile of leaves near the base of the tree, hoping to get two cigarettes in before having to head back to his cubicle. His boot nudged something hard and he pushed away the leaves to discover the rear of a small, blue, toy car sticking out of the dirt. He leaned down, grabbed it and pushed it side to side until it was free.

He held it up, brushed off the excess dirt and flipped open the driver’s side door with his thumb.

“A Gran Torino.”

Joey looked over at Peggy, surprised at her knowledge. “How do you know that?”

“I used to own one, back in the day.” She chuckled and held her hand out, wordlessly asking to get a closer look at the car. Joey gave it to her and asked, “How long did you have it?”

“A couple of years.” She held the toy with two fingers and turned it, inspecting all sides as she pulled a draw on her cigarette. “I wrecked it.”

Joey waited a few seconds for an explanation but grew impatient. “So what happened?”

Peggy rubbed her cigarette into the sand in the large concrete ash tray, looked at Joey and said, “Now that’s a funny story...”

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