Occasional Prose

The Chauffeur (a short story)

“Where to, love?”

“Today was simply dreadful. Why don’t we just drive around the lake?”

“Yes, marm.”

Violetta sat uncomfortably in the back seat of the car, rolling up her window up and letting out a sigh. The car began to move over cobblestone to a paved road. She watched the bare trees rush by as she leaned her head on the window. “Can you slow down?”

“Yes, love.”

“You can drop that hideous act as well. It’s only me.”

“Yes, marm, but you–“

“I know, I know. I forgot to make the change.”

“All is well.” There was a brief pause as the road drew closer to the lake. It was cool outside but the sight of the water brought Violetta warm feelings of older days. The silence was an important part of these trips even if it would not last forever. “What, pray tell, has made this day so dreadful?”

“It’s the same everyday.”

“But you are not the same as you were, marm.”

“I assure you that my mind is still the same.”

“I cannot cannot determine what it is that makes you confide in me.”

“Then why do you try?”

“Perhaps I can be what lacks being. I need only figure out your motivations. “

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“With all due resprect–“

“You know, I thought a drive would help today. Would you kindly pull into one of the empty lots?”

“I can, love.”

“Stop,” she whispered.

“I do apologize. I wanted to say it one last time.”

The car pulled into an empty lot moments later. Violetta took a few minutes and stared out into the water with a look of emptiness in her eyes. “Some days,” she said, her voice trailing off. She sniffled but ultimately composed herself.

“We have talked about this.”

“How do you remember talking about it? How can you?”

“Might I suggest a course of action? Why don’t you hit the reset and I will drive you home?”

“Maybe that would be for the best.” Climbing into the front seat of the car, Violetta pushed a few buttons on the dash, each making a cheery note. A notification popped up on the touchscreen which read: RESET? YES or CANCEL. She closed her eyes and tapped blindly. There was no audio to indicate her choice.

“You will not tell anyone?” she asked.

“Who would I tell, marm?”

“Can you drive me home?”

“Most certainly. Same time tomorrow, love?”

She was silent as the tires ran over some particularly noisy rocks. “Same time,” she eventually said.

“Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day,” the car said monotonously.

3 thoughts on “The Chauffeur (a short story)

    1. The RESET did not work but I don’t know why. She was either missing the button (on accident or purpose by reaching for it blindly) or the car, with newfound sentience, bypassed it to enjoy those daily, repetitive conversations.

      Glad you enjoyed it! ๐Ÿ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

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