The Color Yellow
It’s a Monday morning, seven a.m. Traffic is piled up and spreads over one kilometer in either direction. “I’m going to be so late for school mom.” I say, glancing over to the driver’s seat of our Chrysler Voyager. A beat up, yellow car spitting out dark clouds of smoke comes to a stop in the lane beside us. “Look mom!” I shout eagerly. “It’s just like the car pappou had.”