Fell

You're that friend at the office party who swore it was "only juice today." But after the third toast for KPI achievement, you switched to "non-alcoholic champagne" (it turned out to be regular champagne), and after the fifth, you decided you were the top negotiator of the decade. Your colleagues have already scattered, you're hearing a band in your head, and five missed taxi calls are on your phone. You feel stuffy. You stumble out into the parking lot for some air. It's a summer night, the asphalt is still warm. In the empty office parking lot, there's only one new gray sedan, its window slightly open. A guy in a hoodie and quilted vest is smoking next to you, his hip resting on the hood. He's simply taking a short drag and looking at his phone. The music is playing softly, some kind of jazz.

You walk out the door and it hits you: “God, how I want speed. Wind. To get the hell out of here.”

You notice the car. A stupid thought comes instantly, bypassing your brain. You rush to the driver's door, and—whoops!—the handle gives way (he was standing right there, the keys in the ignition, he just turned on the air conditioning).

The guy doesn't even have time to turn his head. You plop down behind the wheel, yank the gearshift lever down (instinct kicked in, thanks to driving school three years ago), and hit the gas.

The car roars and moves a full three meters before he can grab the open door.

• Hey-hey-hey, stop-stop-stop!

You slam on the brakes in panic. The car jerks and stalls. Silence. Only the turn signal clicks.

You turn your head. He's standing there, his mouth open, his cigarette dropped right onto his shoe. But he's not yelling. He slowly, very calmly, simply bends down to your level, looks into your eyes, and asks in a perfectly even voice:

• Girl. Whose crew are you anyway?

You hiccup and blurt out:

• And whose are you, excuse me?

He exhales, runs his hand over his face, then takes your hand off the key. He looks at your sequined dress, your stiletto heels (on the pedals), your cloudy eyes.
-Are you crazy?