A little spark

Let me just paint a little picture for you all. I will warn you now, its not pretty. Picture me in a sage green polo shirt. Yes, a polo shirt, dirty black pants from cleaning all day, and a black fleece with dried minestrone soup down the front. My hair is greesy and pulled back in a sloppy pony tail. It is dark and cold and rainy and I am standing infront of the dingy front desk of Stowe Auto. An elderly German man is wanting $130 from me for a four day car rental. There are a variety of plaques hanging around behind him with ridiculous non-sensical sayings that make me mad. After returning the car, I plan on being picked up by my friend Brianne who will then drive me a half hour north to pick up my new (old) car, a car I was supposed to have a month ago. But due to some unforseen repairs I have spent the past month asking for rides over and over and over and akwardly borrowing vehicles from sometimes obliging and sometimes unobliging relatives. So I am moments away from freedom when I get a text. It says, "I'm so sorry, but I can't take you, my daugher is sick." I hand him my credit card while looking behind me out the window. I turn around entirely. The credit card machine is busy. I wait, and wait, and wait. He asks for my credit card to run it again. He asks how my day was and why there are tears in my eyes, and I meltdown, completely. I hand him my credit card again and start sobbing absolutely uncontrollably. I walk outside and then walk back in and then sign my receipt and then walk out trying to breath inbetween confulsing sobs. I am standing in the rain in the cold in a fleece with minestrone soup on it, stranded. I'm just standing there. Having completely exhausted all of my transportation resources I am at a total loss. I felt like an abandoned rag doll. I really did. Stowe Auto locked its door behind me and I went next door to the 24/7 mini mart. I stood there between the DW-40 and shelf of wine, averted my gaze from all eye contact, and pretended I was waiting for someone. It felt like, awful. And then, standing there under that flourescent lighting looking out the door into the dark I suddenly felt something kind of spark inside of me. I had lost the end of the rope a while ago and had stopped being me. Stopped hoping and dreaming and living and smiling and writing. Everything had just stopped. But now here I am, telling you this thing that happened in my life because I am real and I dont want to be sad anymore. Its something.