Car Club — Late Return

A short story.

Panic. The clock showed three minutes past the return time. The red traffic light glared for what seemed like forever. Then, just as it turned green, the Fiat in front stopped on the yellow box. A shudder of fury shook Frieda’s body. “Bloody move!” She screamed, as if the person in the car in front could hear. She pressed the door unlock button; that way, she could exit quickly when she did reach the return spot.

The Fiat moved forward, and Frieda pushed down the accelerator, budging straight up behind it, trying to push it forward. But the Fiat had nowhere to go; a giant ten-tonne truck in front of it blocked any exit strategy.

The corner of Frieda’s mouth started to twitch. This is going to cost me twenty-five quid, all for being ten minutes late. Slow down your breathing; calm now.

An alarm beeped from the tyre warning light. Unbelievable! Her breath came in ragged gasps of frustration. Slowly, the truck edged forward, and the Fiat sat still.

Unable to contain her rage, she sounded the horn long and hard. Patience can forget being a virtue, she thought. She glanced in the mirror; the whites of her eyes were red, and her pupils were large and dark.

The Fiat edged forward a few feet. The driver raised a finger at her.