“I really shoud learn to drive” I think to myself for the billionth time since I’ve turned 18. The sky is a silvery grey, the kind where if I wear too much of it I look dead, I’m cold and I look like a smurf because of the ridiculous red beanie I’m wearing. I should really learn to drive.
Waiting for my mom to pick me up while I’m sitting outside a certain frozen yoghurt place where the manager has stared at my derriere enough to make it a safety hazard, in an area of Johannesburg where grown women find it aesthetically acceptable to wear hot pink clip-on hats in public.
I went grocery shopping instead of gallery hopping and now I’m stranded because I can only make it to second gear and I have no clue how to reverse.
I really should learn.