Typical.

Crimson Flag.

“Okay…” I said, feeling weary “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It was your idea, last time. Maybe we can think of something. And if not, we can at least celebrate! Let me buy you a drink.”

The color was draining from my face. “Um…I shouldn’t. I don’t drink out. I just have my scooter.”

Janet waved it off. She was closing the distance between us. “Don’t worry about it. One drink won’t hurt me. That tiny thing you ride into work will fit in my hatchback. I’ll be the D.D.”

My throat was suddenly dry. I jumped up and grabbed the handle, opening the door and nudging my foot out. “Amazon seatbelts don’t fit so good on me…”

“No biggie,” Janet said. “I’ve got a car seat.”

ABORT! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!