Page 6 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

“Pick me up some chips!” She yells out as I close the door behind me.

It isn’t usually this way, but the weather is even worse than this morning. There is heavy fog, which makes me narrow my eyes as I drive through it.

Thankfully, I make it to the store in one piece.

Since, it was around four in the evening, I expected to see more people in our local grocery store.

“Hey, George.” I dump my items onto the counter.

George, an elderly man, who had been running this store since he was a young man, starts calling up the bill, “Miss Johnson. How’s the new job?”

I shrug, “First day, today. So far, so good. Why is the place so empty?”

George points toward the tv screen in the corner, “There’s a forecast for heavy snowfall today. I’m going to close shop in an hour. It’s best you hurry home as well.”

Bidding goodbye, I step outside and glance at the gathering dark clouds. There is bite in the air that makes me shiver. I wasn’t too crazy about the cold, so I hurried toward my car.

Starting the car, I put it in reverse gear and wince at the sounds that were coming from the engine. The roads weren’t entirely empty as people were rushing home, no one wanted to be caught in this bad weather.

At some point, I felt the car growing colder, and realized that the heater had stopped working. Leaning over to check the gauge meter, I felt the impact of hitting something, more than hearing it.

My head flew up in torrid mixture of guilt and shock.

There was a car in front of me.

I throw open my car door and rush over to see if anyone is injured. My hands tremble as the door opens.

“Are you okay?!” The words blurt out from my mouth.

The man was tall, his shoulders broad. He wore a light-coloured overcoat over his suit, and his piercing gray eyes flash with annoyance.

“Do you drive with your eyes closed?” He demands with an icy tone, making me wince.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t-“

“My car was parked,” His glare was just as deadly as his tone, and I could very well imagine him in a board room meeting with some business executives, as he blasted them with that cold look.

“It was an accident,” I try to apologize but he isn’t even listening. He is crouching down to inspect the damage to his car.

When I hear him curse, I pursed my lips in panic.

What if he wants me to pay for the damages? I can’t afford that, not on my salary.

“Both the tires are busted.” He looks at me as if it was all my fault. Which in hindsight, it was, I think guiltily.

“I really am sorry,” I say, feeling like a wretch.

“Who gave you a licence in the first place?” The man asks me, a scowl etched on his face.

I frown now, “Look, I got distracted. I apologized. You don’t need to be a dick about it.”

His eyes narrow, and his tone gets even colder, if that was even possible, “You just ruined my new car. I’m going to be late for a very important meeting, because you got distracted. And you expect me to be nice to you?”

My voice came out smaller than I had intended, “Yes.”

With an afterthought, I add a small, “Sorry.”

He opens his mouth to say something, and then looks up to the sky as the snow starts falling around us.

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