It’s been four days since that kiss and every single day something bad has happened. The day after the kiss, I finally got the license plate for my car in the mail that I’ve been waiting anxiously for since my temporary one was expired. Of course, I put it on my car not even thinking about the tag number until Leah pointed out that morning I took her to the airport that 8DX-247 looks like it says, “Ate dicks twenty-four seven”. Now, I can only imagine what anyone behind me in traffic is thinking.

Then yesterday I went to the mall after work so that I could return a pair of jeans I bought and, while I was getting off the escalator, my shoelace, which I didn’t know was untied, was sucked up by the teeth at the bottom of the escalator and after getting my foot out at the last minute, half my shoe was gone causing the whole machine to break down. After that near death experience, I ended up going home with only one shoe, a migraine, and the pair of jeans I didn’t get to return.

But no that run of bad luck just couldn’t be enough. I shake my head as I stare at my empty parking space, the one where my car normally is, and exactly where I know I parked last night when I got home. Apparently yesterday when I got home after the mall fiasco, I forgot like an idiot to hang my car tag on my rearview mirror, so they towed my car. Or, at least, I hope that is what happened, because honestly, I can’t remember if I hung the tag, but I do know I didn’t check to see if there was another tracker under my car.

With a curse I head back into the building, hoping like heck that the front office is already open so that I can ask them about my car, because if they are not, I’ll have to spend the next however long calling each and every tow company in the city to see if one of them has it.

When I get inside, I make my way through the maze that is the inner building and thank my lucky stars when I find the office open, and Libby, one the girls who runs the front desk, sitting in her chair behind the counter.

“Hey.” I greet her out of breath as I step inside, and she lifts her head and smiles at me.

“Hey, Willow.”

“I was wondering if you could tell me if my car was towed.” I walk up to the counter, and she frowns.

“I don’t think so.” She stops whatever she’s doing and starts to type something into the computer, then a second later she looks up at me and cringes. “It was towed last night. There’s a note that no tag was displayed.”

My shoulders slump and she offers me a sympathetic smile. “In other news the system is supposed to change soon, and you’ll have a sticker to add to your window so it’s always there.”