cheeks to hold back more caged laughter. After a few minutes of extended awkwardness, I finally give her the permission she’s been looking for.

She basically explodes, “Let me tell you! Your cheeks were all scrunched up when you fell out! They actually flopped over my knuckles and then you were all like, Weeeeeee…” She revisits the waving hands thing while motioning toward the open door.

“No need to rub it in. I get it. Hahaha.” I promptly slam the door shut behind me with sarcasm firmly in place.

“No, but seriously!” She pounds the flimsy steering wheel with those damn tiny fists between each word. 

“Really, I get it!!!” My agitation...

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