She let them think she didn’t mean it.
Though she had.
If she no longer could drive, then none of them were going to be able to.
At least not with her vehicle.
Sure, it was (another) way of shooting herself in the foot.
No doubt it was petty.
But petty was all she felt that she had left.
If she were to still be noticed.
Life was putting her in long-term parking.
She was not going to let others earn more freedom by it.
So she drove the car into the fence, and left it.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Liz Young