100 Words - Not My Knife

rusty car
knife in the glove box Photo by Lance Grandahl on Unsplash

Whose knife is in my glove compartment?” My friends seemed as confused as I was. They’re terrible liars, so I knew they didn’t know. I called the last person who was in my car alone, my current flirtation Carol. She said it wasn’t hers, but suggested I find a dumpster for it. So, that’s what I did.

The hard part now is deciding Carol’s status on my affection scale. I am stupidly attracted to danger, so that’s a plus. However, I have trust issues, and someone who would plant evidence of a crime in my car is a definite minus.