Eight bars. There were only eight bars to go. But the whole thing was agonizing. It was made worse by the the slow blink and fade out of the lowest bar. The scooter was set to be charging, but of course Marylin couldn’t afford the speed charge, and the associated fees. So she had to get comfortable with the fact that she just had to wait around.
Waiting was normally what she was good at. It was why she became a PI. That and the business cards. She’d yet figured out a way to get the light to stream into her office just right between the Venetian blinds. She would one day. If she could get to her office.
That required a fully charged scooter. Something she didn’t have patience for. What made it worse was she didn’t have a charging station near her home or office. So it was always a chore to keep her ride in working order.
Blink… and hold. The first bar was filled.
Now it would be just her luck that her current target would drive by, thought Marylin. And so it was.
A grimy blue pickup smeared with greasy and bearing a slew of stickers advertising a range of brands commonly associated with racing roared on by. And Marylin only watched in disappointment. Not that she couldn’t pick up the trail later, but that the world was taunting her so.
Today’s art is courtesy of Brother Baston from Helsinki, Finland.