2025-09-24 23:56:24
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The younger salesman sat hunched over, his face hidden in his hands, rocking a little like a man on the edge. His voice was muffled but desperate.“Tell me I’m dreaming, Mike. Please tell me this is just one of those weird nightmares where you wake up sweating and laugh about it later.”The older salesman—Mike—dragged a hand down his face, his cheeks pale, eyes bloodshot from the pressure of the moment. He shook his head.“Nightmare? Kid, if that was a dream, I don’t ever wanna know what reality feels like. That… that boy wasn’t bluffing. You saw his eyes.”The younger man—Kevin—jerked his head up, his eyes wide.“Yeah, I saw! That’s the problem. His eyes weren’t just… normal. It was like he was… daring us. Like he already knew how it would end before it even started.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Mike, who the hell was that?”Mike clenched his jaw, staring at the wet footprints that trailed to the door. His voice came out low.“Not just some kid, that’s for sure. People li
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The older salesman’s voice cracked as he muttered, almost choking on his words. “I… I can’t believe it. This—this doesn’t happen. People don’t just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream.Dylan stood there calm, the jingling of the keys soft in his palm. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t gloating. He just looked at the two men with a steady gaze, and that silence was louder than any shouting.The younger salesman’s lips trembled. He shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing his damp palms down the sides of his slacks. “I—I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered, his eyes darting anywhere but Dylan’s face. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just thought—you know—policy… rules…” His voice faded off, thin as paper.Dylan tilted his head slightly, as if he was listening, but his face gave nothing away. He just let the younger man’s excuses crumble in the air.The older salesman leaned forward in his chair, trying to put steel in his tone, but
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The older salesman’s face went red, veins standing out on his forehead. “I am stopping him. You little—” He didn’t finish. Dylan’s glare cut through him like ice.The younger salesman froze, hovering over the desk like a kid caught stealing candy. “I—I… I can’t—he’s—he’s dripping water all over the tiles!” His voice cracked again, high-pitched. “That’s—ugh—hazard! Liability!”Dylan’s mouth twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hazard?” he said slowly. “You mean like the hazard of me walking out with the car while you boys yap?”The older man jabbed a finger. “Enough! Listen, kid, do you have any idea what you’re asking? That car isn’t—”“Isn’t what?” Dylan cut in, calm but sharp. “Yours to decide? Yours to deny? Is that it?”The older salesman opened his mouth, then closed it. He swallowed. Something about the way Dylan stood there, shoulders squared, wet coat plastered to him, boots leaving dark, wet marks on pristine tiles, made him feel like a child.T
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The younger salesman’s grin twitched, faltering like a cheap neon sign. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Then—too fast, too bright—“Funny. That’s funny, right? You—uh—you’ve got jokes.”Dylan didn’t move. His gaze stayed on him, still as the car itself.The older salesman leaned forward in his chair, forcing a chuckle. “Listen, pal. We don’t… uh… hand out keys to just anyone walking in off the street. That car—” he jabbed his finger at the blood-red machine gleaming under the showroom lights—“isn’t for… browsing.”Rain hammered harder against the glass, the sound swelling like a drumroll.Dylan’s voice cut through it, calm, unbothered. “Not browsing.”He took a single step forward. Water dripped from his coat onto the tiles, each drop loud in the hush. “Buying.”The younger salesman tilted his head, trying to laugh again but it came out thin. “Buying? That one? Friend, that thing’s six figures—before taxes. You don’t just stroll in here, dripping wet, and call dibs.”D
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Dylan’s knuckles whitened as his fists closed tighter, then slowly loosened again. He wasn’t here for them. He told himself that once, then again, because the heat rising in his chest wanted another kind of answer.The younger salesman tilted his head, smirk deepening. “That coat of yours—what is it, vintage? My granddad had one like that back in the ‘80s. He threw it out when it started smelling like wet dog.”The older one barked a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Careful, don’t get too close. Might leave a stain on the leather seats.”The younger salesman snapped his fingers, pretending to think. “Oh! I get it. You’re here for shelter, right? Rain’s too rough, figured you’d take a stroll through the showroom, drip on the floor, stare at things you can’t touch. Cheaper than a motel.”The older one leaned back in his chair, eyeing Dylan’s boots. “Those things look like they’ve seen more puddles than pavement. Wonder if the soles are even attached. Maybe we should o
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Dylan didn’t answer Ivy. Not with words, not with fists. He just turned, rain soaking his coat until it clung to his frame, and walked away. His boots splashed through the gutters like they were the only rhythm left in the world.The city square blurred behind him. He needed movement, something tangible, something that didn’t taste like betrayal. By the time the lamps thinned into neon strips and storefronts, he had decided: a car. A way out, a way forward.The dealership was a glass box of light in the storm, its bright windows cutting through the wet dark. Polished machines glimmered under fluorescent bulbs, their paintwork like candy shells. Dylan stepped inside, trailing a storm behind him. Rainwater pooled immediately beneath his boots, dotting the glossy white tiles with dark splashes.A young salesman, slim and polished, spotted him at once. His smile was professional, but his eyes couldn’t hide the quick sweep they gave Dylan’s figure: unshaven jaw shadowed in dark stubble, ha
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