Brenda leaned her head back as the wind caressed her streaked hair. At last, a convertible, my own convertible. A burgundy convertible. Laughter trailed after her.
Brenda knew she was hot, so totally hot. The women around her were hags compared to her. The men who passed by gave her that look, confirming her thoughts. They waved and smiled, that kind of smile that said Hey, babe. Walk on the wild side...
She slammed her foot down on the gas, taking her convertible to its highest speed. Take that, mustangs.
Brenda
slowed just enough to hang the turn into the parking lot. She skid
into a space, one near the Atrium where cards slid across the felt and
fortunes fell. Money burned in her red Louis Vuitton purse.
In moments, Brenda was through a door that opened for her.
Brenda
eased her walker to an awaiting table. "Hey, ladies. You ready to put
your money where your mouth is?" With that, she turned up her hearing
aid and slapped down the maximum ante of $3.00.
"Saw
your new golf cart, Brenda! Could see that you cranked it up to 20 mph
this time. Speed will kill you every time. That and Alzheimer's."
Hester smirked.
Those
around her shook their heads and picked up their cards. Brenda laid her red
Louis Vuitton purse on her walker. She had left her cane at home, since
her last hip surgery.
Arthritis is a bitch.
