23
All the Lost Things
by Stephanie Gardener
Lissa walked slowly through the empty lot of cars. She peered around the corner, looking for the flash of tail lights, listening for the honk of a car horn. Her keys were clutched loosely in her hand, jingling quietly as she walked in wide circles, her thumb mashing the button on the little plastic device that was supposed to make her car door unlock, make noise. Tell her where it was.
Above her, stars popped out of the dimming sky – and she wondered if they had been summoned to mock her plight. She was so sure that she had parked in the lot near the old brick building. She wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to lose a whole car.
Again.
For the second time that week.
I don’t have enough left in me for this. Her hands shook. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. The muscles in her back knotted until her shoulders were parallel with her ears. Lissa stopped in the middle of the asphalt wasteland. Turned her head to one side, then the other. She inhaled deeply—waited for her breathing to normalize.
For a moment, she wondered if any drivers that came through the lot would see her. She must look crazy, standing as still as a startled deer. Although seeing her might be a trick. Black shirt, dark blue jeans. Not much to make her stand out in the darkness except for a shock of bright blonde hair on her head and the neon green converse on her feet.
She opened her eyes, half expecting to see headlights headed her direction. Half expecting to find the grill of a car a breath away from her face.
She opened her eyes to darkness.