Closing took an extra half an hour. Not that I minded, that was just more money in the bank. My foot was itching to press the gas behind a silver Camry, impatient to munch a few Tylenol pm and put the world on pause. I merged left slipping past, I noticed a little hand. A cinnamon child, cherubic and fresh putting her head out the car window. Her little head nested between her folded arms, her hair a coiled ebony flame. I remembered that; remembered that girl. I was that girl. Bathing myself in the wind, tasting the air from the passenger side window. Her eyes closed like iridescent oyster shells, her hope worn like a jacket. She had not a fear of the world, not jaded, not cynical, not damaged. I gazed at her in admiration, this brave little lioness. Sometimes it's the small things that pick us back up.