She was waiting to jaywalk across the alleyway when a car flew past her driving a little too fast for the enclosed space. It appeared to be a dusty 90's Subaru hatchback with a dark-haired guy driving.
She always wondered what it would be like to be with a guy who didn't care about his car, maybe even be proud that he drove a beater. He would name it and show empathy when it broke down rather than anger.
Her ex always said that it was silly that she anthropomorphized objects like cars. Then he even started to do it a little himself.
She suddenly found herself imagining that guy in the car did it all by himself. The car was a "she" and he gave her some old timey name like "Bessie" and when asked would say something like "She just felt like a Bessie."
He was the type of guy who would find a nickname for you that you sort of hated to start, but after awhile hearing your real name on your lips felt strange. You would know if he ever used your real name it would mean he was serious about something.
He was the kind of guy who would laugh at your lame dad jokes, then look into your eyes and push your hair behind your ear before leaning in for a kiss.
She had just built up a Manic Pixie Dream Boy from a passing car. She must be really lonely.
