“Just how long has this been parked?”
The youth’s shrug managed both disinterest and disdain.
Edith pressed her lips. Inhaled. Her students had called it her “Schoolmarm Face.” They didn’t know it was just as effective at getting her own body to comply.
She pointed at the wheels.
“Grassy stuff,” the youth noted. “It grew.”
Edith knew a hopeless case when she saw it.
“Well then,” she thrust her purse at him.
For the first time, he looked marginally awake. “Um…, Ma’am?”
“Hold it.” She rolled her sleeves. “And help these old knees down. Someone’s got to check the undercarriage.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Russell Gayer
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