Flat Tires | A 100 Word Story

#195 Page of Quills

I disarm them first, feed them some line about being a woman and how I’ve never changed a tire before. Gets them every time. Gives them a sense of being useful. Indeed.

I take this time to size them up. While they’re down on their knees, doing whatever men do to fix a flat tire. Easy enough to do if you know how. Then I wait patiently on the side of the road and voila!

My mother keeps telling me it’s no way to find a husband. Tell that to my last two. Third times a charm. Mark my words.