I found the car key beside a palm tree far from the sidewalk. It had been used a lot; brass showed through the silver. Nobody around. I frowned. Had someone thrown it? Gotten disgusted with a crappy car? Dumped the boyfriend? There had to be a story.
I wiped my forehead. Then I heard footsteps, spun, saw a tall, elegant woman striding toward me. Fast. Wearing a tutu and ballet slippers, swinging a key chain, her eyes fell on my hand.
“So you’re the one who stole my key,” she snapped.
Oh no, not again. I dropped the key and ran.