Going to a bad neighborhood meant pickings were a little slim, but she could usually find something that H-Dawg would buy from her, no questions asked... She strummed her fingers along the roof of a worn-looking ’72 Chevy Impala…nobody would buy that one, but she considered taking it for a joyride just to feel the thrum of the engine around her…the big cars always had a certain mystique to them, she thought. She passed a ’67 Beetle that someone was driving far past its sell-by date, and she idly. She recognized both voices to be her parents. She tried to cover her ears but the last sentence came through clearly. ‘Have a merry fucking Christmas asshole.’ Her mother yelled before running upstairs and slamming the bedroom door. ‘It is a merry fucking Christmas.’ Robyn said as she stood up and put her glasses on. She made her way downstairs and sat at the table, next to her father. ‘Hell of a wakeup call.’ She said as she took a sip from a coffee cup. ‘Sorry about that.’ He said. More

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