Stranded

I got stranded again.

I thought I’d beat the heat and take a shortcut to the cigarette store up the road, but my Uber driver had other plans.

We ended up far past where my destination was when I finally told him to let me off. I waited by the nearest landmark, a U-Haul garage across the busy boulevard, and waited five minutes for the next Uber driver to pick me up and drive me safely home.

It happened during my first IOP program at the clinic, too. One of my Uber drivers got a flat on the highway and had to transport me to a gas station. Worst of all, my dinosaur of a phone requires ample charging.

I was so upset, I departed from the second Uber and walked up the road to the Walmart to buy an Almond Joy and a tube of Revlon lipstick and some anti-anxiety supplements while chain-smoking.

Of course, now I want the cigarettes even more but am feeling wretched about how I was presumably almost sex trafficked on a run-of-the-mill Wednesday.

“Electric Melon” is the shade.