I get out of the car. It is very early in the morning, and the neighbor in the parking lot approaches me. I would say too much.
"I take advantage of the fact that I see you to ask you to park better," he lets go.
Surprised, I turn to my vehicle and admire how well I have left it. Perfectly aligned, with all its parallel blue and without touching any of the four lines of the corresponding rectangle. What belongs to me
"Well, I see it well -I resolve-, my car is in its place".
Then she gets very tense. And she gets even closer, so much so that I can confirm that she is definitely less young than she appears at first glance. That she is very dyed and heavily made up but already with ruined eyeliner, totally sinister.
"Park it closer to the wall, it's very small," he spits. So that mine fits”.
For a moment I admire her. What the hell! I'm about to applaud, but I tell him I can't leave him within a foot of the wall. Except when she crosses her vehicle between my place and the one she has on the other side, making it impossible to maneuver in both.
“If you're having such a hard time with this place (I don't get it, huge vans fit there), maybe you should change cars. Or square”, I propose.
Then it turns to you: “She's rude!” she yells. "Let him know that I will call the police." He claims that he has photos of my rear-view mirror invading his space (I doubt it) and my wheels stepping on his lines (I already deny that). And she gets so close to me, so close that I feel that she smells very strong. I don't know if it was cologne (forceful like her makeup), tobacco or rage. I appreciate the intervention of her husband? (Since when is he here?) And soothe her. "Marxem," he dictates. El su cotxe de ella està bé. Dins the seva square”.
It has gone by the hairs. I admit it. The parking lot is definitely a place to stick. We got there too soon in a rush to burn and we came back too late with stale anger.
