Dripping wet, Marcus stepped into the showroom on US-31. He wasn’t met with a lecture or a cold shoulder. Instead, a salesman named Greg handed him a coffee and a towel.
Marcus pulled out of the lot, the wipers clearing the last of the rain. He didn't just have a car; he had his commute back, his paycheck secured, and a fresh start on the road ahead.
An hour later, the sun started to peek through the Indiana clouds. Marcus wasn't waiting on a phone call from a distant lender in another state. He was standing in the lot, looking at a reliable silver crossover. It was clean, inspected, and most importantly, it was his .
The rain was coming down in sheets across Indianapolis, mirroring the luck Marcus had been having lately. He stood under the awning of a bus stop on the Southside, clutching a soggy folder of job applications. His old sedan had given up the ghost on I-65 three days ago, and in this city, no wheels meant no work.