The Waiting Car

Outside there is a car waiting.

It has been there since I can remember, probably longer. There is no driver. It doesn't need one.

It waits for me, it has been since it arrived. I don't drive. I don't want to take that ride just yet, but I know that I must.

It is cold and foggy, and I am sitting in this all-night café and my coffee is getting cold.

I don't want to leave but the lights are going out here and there is no more coffee.

I leave the café and walk to the car. Before I open the door I see the number plate.

It has four numbers on it.

2 0 2 5