Wordle by Wordle: Day 96
Friday, April 5, 2024
Wordle #1021 – WRIST
A memory—many memories, actually—rush back to me, unbidden. Of all the times I would drive us around during our college days. Bree had a car but hated driving. I didn’t and didn’t mind chauffeuring.
We’d go to the mall to buy more candles and body spray than any two people could ever need, to the convenience store for day-old donuts, to free movie night at the campus theater...
I wonder if Bree is remembering the same thing. There’s the faintest rumor of a smile on her lips, but she doesn’t meet my eyes as she holds out the key fob to me, her wrist limp.
I quickly exchange Lola for the fob, shoving the dog into Bree’s arms and then jumping into the driver’s seat before Bree can change her mind. She, on the other hand, takes her time settling Lola into her bed in the backseat, putting her duffle and blanket into the trunk, trying to wrest back control of the situation.
When Bree finally eases into the passenger’s seat, she shoots me a look that seems to say, “I hope you’re happy.”
“Well…” I respond feebly as I search for the push-start button. The touchscreen lays out a buffet of icons before me and I tap a few at random. Maybe I’m in over my head. “How do I—?”
“No, don’t touch that! Just press the brake pedal—"
“The brake pedal?”
“Yes, like that, and then move that lever down. No, down. Here, let me…”
Somehow, we manage to maneuver the car onto the street and slip into a stream of traffic shining golden in the setting sunlight.
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