Little Girl, What’s Your Name?

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he man driving the truck swerved into the parking lot with a screech. He double parked in front of the grocery store, positioning his clunker in the middle of the last two parking slots available.

He hopped out of his truck, left it idling, stomped out his cigarette, and zipped into the little market. I looked at my watch. Yep, beer-thirty.

Sitting patiently in the passenger seat was the man’s two foot tall red headed little girl, serious at work with her coloring book.

Another ugly truck pulled in behind the first truck and honked his horn angrily.

Without missing a beat the little carrot top slid over into the driver’s seat and threw the car in reverse. Swiftly, she repositioned the car into a single parking space like a NASA space station pilot.

A few moments later, I saw her daddy walking out of the little grocery toting a case of Bud Light and lighting a fresh cigarette.

The little ginger girl rolled down the driver’s side window and held up her hand. The manĀ gave the little girl the most emphatic high-five that I have ever seen.

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