“Come on, come on,” Chris pleaded with his engine.
He turned the key again. The engine sputtered and tried
to turn over.
“Fuck.” He released the key and sank back into the cold
seat. He bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. A pair of tears ran unheeded
down the middle of his cheeks.
After the feeling passed he sat in his car, dazed and
unsure what he was going to do. Eventually, he dragged himself back up to his chilly
apartment. He had to sit on the floor; he’d sold his furniture last month so he
could eat.
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