I grabbed the keys with no presence of Sonya. I unlocked the door with no presence of Sonya. I started the engine with no presence of Sonya.

I thought I was going to get out of their scot-free until I started to back up and saw Sonya standing in the street completely naked, blocking my path.

I didn’t care anymore. I reversed the car as hard as I could.

Sonya must have dove out of the way of the car, because I lost sight of her before I whipped the car around and floor-boarded the hell out of her driveway. I made the long drive home in just my boxers, without a phone and was damn lucky to have roommates who let me into my place when I knocked because my main keys were still in Sonya’s bedroom.

—

I called the police in Sonya’s suburban town and told them what happened. They didn’t really seem to care. At best, my case was a domestic violence dust up between two people who went their separate ways. I was fine with letting it go.

Not an hour goes by where I don’t think about everything that happened. I assume it will stay that way till the day I die.

It has been nine months and the whole incident just zapped back into my mind full-time. My god-awful manager at work who I hate more than anyone I have ever met in my entire life showed me something very interesting on his phone while trying to brag at a lunch.

He showed me a “smokin-hot babe” he recently started dating off of Bumble. He had only “slayed” her one time so far, but he explained that he was closing in. He said she had a killer place outside of the city.