Right now, someone is walking out of their apartment wondering where their car went.
The black Honda held their work clothes along with their school papers isn’t parked on the street where it had been left.
The man pulls his phone from his pocket and dials his work, tells them that his car has been stolen, and then he dials the police.
That black Honda is a city away, under the roof of a large warehouse where it is being cut into pieces along with unnumberable bits other vehicles. The interior has been stripped.
Personal items that are either identifiable or worthless to the new owners have been trashed. The engine has already been removed.
The tires, springs and doors are being shopped around for buyers while they are in the process of being stripped from the cars frame.
Walking from that warehouse is a man. Counting five hundred dollars in cash, he figures that he can pay for his half of the rent and he will be able to buy his daughter a small gift for her birthday.
He doesn’t get to see his daughter as much as he would like, she lives across town, in a nice area. Her mom refused to let her child grow up in the streets that he could afford to live on.
On her nice streets, his daughter is walking home from school right now. She’s excited about her test, wanting to put it up on the refrigerator.
Proud, she wants to display her latest A to the world. When she gets home she has to celebrate alone though, because her mother is still at her office.
At work, her mother, has to get the bosses schedule straight, set up meetings, presentations and lunches to go along with interviews and phone calls.
But the hardest part is keeping a smile on her face while he hits on her. The man sits on her desk, smiling, asking if there is anything he could do to make her job more comfortable.
Back at the boss’s home his wife, who didn’t wait for her husband to make the first betrayal, was busy in the bedroom with an old flame, a true love that she had never been able to shake.
The woman made the decision to marry into money and live comfortably, but she hasn’t been able to stop making the mistake of seeing the man her heart longs for.
Her love was a man who had never fit well into anything, her family, a nice school or a steady job. He seemed to get rejected from every aspect of life that he put himself into.
Now he was trying to keep hold on an art career, waiting for it to take off. Art was the current love of his life.
His fist painting had finally been sold by his agent, a friend of his. It was sold at a much lower price than what his friend had promised.
But he had needed to make room in the gallery for items that would actually attract some interest from buyers.
The painting had been picked up by the agent’s son, to be delivered to the buyer’s home this evening before his son went to work tonight.
That was when his son realized that it wasn’t just his work things that were in his car, and dials the phone number for his father.