The Student News Site of Marlborough School

The UltraViolet

Marlborough School Student Newspaper
The Student News Site of Marlborough School

The UltraViolet

The Student News Site of Marlborough School

The UltraViolet

To kill a mocking-book
To kill a mocking-book
February 21, 2024

The Hunchback of the Parking Lot

symone ONLINE
Photo by Isabel ’14.

Today, I transitioned from a child to an “adult.” No, I did not pay taxes or buy a house. I simply lost my car in a parking lot.

I’m sure you remember the days of accompanying your parents to the grocery store. You’d walk out with your shopping cart and after a few seconds of stillness, the blank stare would form on your parents’ faces.  You’d ask a sassy question like, “How could you forget where your car is?” Well, today I was no longer the sassy child; I was the adult lost in a concrete jungle.

Too cheap to pay the 10 extra cents for a bag, I walked out with groceries stacked haphazardly against my chest in what I thought was the direction of my car. After reaching the back of the lot, I concluded that my car had been stolen or that I had officially lost my youth. I started weaving between cars and tripping over irresponsibly placed shopping carts. My groceries had started to slip in between the folds of my armpits, forcing me to bend over to hold up the non-grip-friendly products.

I continued to make my way around the parking lot, still holding my groceries in position with my stomach and now resembling a lost hunchback. At this point, I had gained some attention. A security guard had his eye on me, probably because he thought I had stolen my groceries. I had half a mind to tell him I wasn’t a thief, but I was too embarrassed to even make eye contact with the grumpy-looking guard.

Finally I saw my car. I walked up to the car only to see a grown man sitting in the driver’s seat. Why was he just chilling in my car? I got very close, thinking of harsh words to spew at the bold intruder, but just as I opened my mouth, I realized that this, in fact, was not my car. The man’s car was a Ford; I drive a Honda. I gave him an embarrassed smile and sprinted off, tears forming in my eyes. I still hadn’t located my car.

I was just about ready to give up when I saw it, in all of its shimmering glorymy Honda, sitting apart from all of the other cars in the lot. Then, I remembered, I’d purposefully parked it in seclusion so that I wouldn’t forget where it was.

 

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