The rest of the day went by in a blur as I was whisked from one place to the other by Yale and her mother. Her father was too busy to be able to leave and, as the two pulled me away, looked like a puppy left out of playtime, for some reason.
We took my car and drove into the city. Yale and her mother fought to sit at the front with me telling them to do rock, paper, scissors to decide.
Her mother ended up riding in front, with me. She talked to me relentlessly, admiring the interior of the car and praised me for taking care of it so well.
This was a gift from her and her husband when I turned seventeen and got my driver's license. But I feel like Yale was the one that actually picked it out because it was a nice, sleek black colour and not like the others they have in their garage.
