[Shaun @ Tru6]

Zoe walked out of the classroom, her head and heart hung low. She knew she had failed the final test. Her perm didn't curl, rollers got stuck and her "customer" screamed, and someone turned off her styling iron, probably Betty, she was such a b itch. Zoe hated Betty.

Well, I might as well return that vase, she thought, crossing the street to the discount home decorating store she wandered through every day after school, looking at things for her own future beauty salon. Can't afford it and it just didn't go well with the kitchen wallpaper. Never going to have a salon either, the thought crept through her head as she stepped up on the sidewalk.

Walking across the parking lot she spied her dream car, a beautiful silver Porsh Boxster. She loved that car and wasn't alone, she and her classmates talked endlessly about what color they would get, what options, did they need an S or was the base engine good enough...

Getting closer, the red interior glowed in the sunlight. She loved it, it was exactly the car she would get. B O X S T E R Sssss she read out, letting the S languish on her tongue. I would love this car.

Staring so intently at it, Zoe didn't notice the old lady walking a herd of weiner dogs, running this way and that, their leashes tangling as they dragged the old lady for a walk. Maybe it was the scent of hairspray, or that her cat had made a nest on her blouse the night before, but all of sudden 6 little dogs were all about her, yapping and jumping up on her legs.

Startled, she stepped back, her heel lightly hitting a dog, which sent her springing forward, tripping over another, she flopped heavily on the trunk lid, her left cheek absorbing the blow even though right hand glanced across the lid, her keys digging a crude horizontal line in the paint, the broach, a gift from her great aunt, cutting a similar diagonal across the bright silver expanse. Pulling herself up and off the car she was horrified on what she had done. Just then, one of the dogs lunged at her, missing her by a hair, but not the car, one of its paws finishing the artwork on the trunk lid. Looking back, it was a big Z, there was no mistaking it. Z for Zoe, who would never get a Boxster now and would have to keep waitressing at that dump across town. She started to cry but her tears quickly turned to fury as she heard the old woman harassing her for getting in the way of her dogs.

The nerve, she growled under her breath. In one quick motion, Zoe grabbed one of the leashes and swung it around, the little weiner dog attached at the other end yowling in disbelief. Weiner dogs don't fly, it thought as it hit the old woman, the one who fed him every day, and someday gave him treats, he loved treats, on the head, knocking her down.

What have I done, exclaimed Zoe! And with that she knew she had to get out of there, and fast. Picking up her vase which miraculously had not been broken, she