cracked windows

The man walks back and forth in a Dollar Tree parking lot. This is what he does while his wife shops inside. He has done it many times.

He sees her from across the lot. An old woman is sitting shotgun in the front seat of an Oldsmobile. As he gets closer, he sees that she is not really sitting. It is more like a slouch.

The right side of her face is pasted against the passenger side window. The glass appears to be holding her upright.

Her eyes are closed and her mouth is wide open. Her white hair is a tangled mess, greasy and unkempt. Strands cling to her forehead and cheeks like wet leaves stuck to a park bench. The driver has cracked the windows for her. Fresh air and good circulation are critical on hot days like today.

The man walks in front of the car and stops to get a better look.

He's concerned.

The man looks toward the store and then back at the car. The driver is nowhere in sight. No one is coming to her aid. There is no relief in sight.

He starts to walk up to her side of the car when he hears the cheerful yip of a dog. The noise is coming from a car a few spaces away. He puts his hand up to his brow to block the sun.

Inside the other car is a fluffy, white-haired poodle with a pink collar. It looks as if it was just groomed by the PetSmart at the other end of the strip mall.

The windows of the Acura aren't cracked. Instead, the engine is running and the AC is churning out cold air. The hair on the dog's head is blowing in the cool breeze from the vent.

It yips again. It wants to play with the stranger.

The man glances back at the woman. Unlike the dog, she doesn't want to play. She's not even aware of his presence.

In that moment he contemplates the cruel irony of a woman treated like a dog. And a dog treated like a woman.

One is pampered and the other is not.

Meanwhile, the drivers of both cars are inside Dollar Tree hunting for bargains. One will spend any savings on kibble and grooming. The other, presumably, will not.

###