Flower Truck

It seems like it should be a surprise, but it isn't. I can see her, her hair blowing in the wind as she picks up the keys and races out to the truck. It's a flower truck, meant to deliver beautiful arrangements in a timely yet manageable fashion. After all, it's rare that someone needs an emergency flower delivery. She gets in the truck and races around campus. She sails over speed bumps, races past stop signs and tries to keep an eye on the road. She calls up her friends from an archaic cell phone that charges over a dollar an hour and shoots the breeze. She invites them to meet her outside their dorms and jump in and they can race around together. Six bodies loaded on top of each other in the single, long front seat. She laughs and shoves a speeding ticket somewhere where she hopes it will be forgotten. The ladies who run the flower store know she's trouble, but they love her any way. They mother her, they give her advice, try to put her on the right path. They pretend not to see the speeding ticket stuffed in the glove compartment. The make her a laminated list of things she needs to do in the order she needs to do them. They understand. She's young... and she's allowed these moments of abandon...