The woman at the impound lot was less than friendly, and while she didn't say anything outright, it was more than obvious she knew who I was. Her co-worker shot me sympathetic glances but never spoke. I didn't deserve sympathy. Every glare I received, every hurtful word mouthed before or after my name, was duly earned.
When the guy brought the car around, he held my stare a little longer than necessary and finally offered me a piece of advice before I left. "Get some plastic to cover up that window until you can get it replaced. Here's the card for a guy who does good work."
I took the business card and his advice. The moment he stepped aside, the sight of the broken window sliced through my heart. I couldn't bear to see any more. There was no telling what was in the vehicle itself tha
