Aislin had spent the better part of her day aimlessly exploring. She’d wandered downtown, surveyed the bazaar, and even treated herself to Dim Sum in Chinatown. Now, pleasantly full beneath the twilit sky, she thought it wise to retire for the evening. She’d dressed casually for her jaunt, wearing an oversized cropped hoodie in forest green, with white track-striping down the sleeves. A pair of high-rise, and excessively distressed, 'boyfriend' jeans were rolled and cuffed at the ankle, putting her classic ivory converse on display.
Practically swallowed up by a sleeve as it was, her right hand delved further into a pants-pocket to fish out a set of keys. She approached her car - a black, ’97 honda accord - and took a moment to be grateful that she’d parked on a one-way, driver’s side along the curb, as she fumbled with her keyring. At least she wouldn't have to avoid oncoming traffic. Upon finally isolating the key she needed, she clumsily dropped the set. It landed with a tumultuous jingle against concrete, a scant inch from the toothy mouth of a sewer grate. Jesus, that was a bit too close. With a sigh of relief, she bent down to pluck them up between magenta-painted fingertips - only to blunder anew on her way back upright. She grappled at air in a hasty scuffle, snatching for her fallen keys and failing miserably; a spectacle for anyone watching. They’d fallen past the grating with a wet plunk. Fuck.
“Shit. Fuck. Shit!” She so eloquently cursed, crouching over the gutter as she pulled out her phone with excessive care, and shined its light into the gloom. They were gone, with no hope of recovery; drowned within the murky depths of city sewage. Disgusting. She shouldn’t want them back after that, anyway. Thankfully, she had spares at home; assuming she could even get in without a key. She maintained her prone position, forehead falling against the car door with a dull thud of defeat. Figures. If she could get in touch with her landlord, she could get in. Would it be impolite to call this late into the evening? … Probably.
“Excuse me,” she called, lifting her head to seek out the attention of a man passing by, “do you know if this is a tow-away zone? … Or, will they boot my car if I leave it overnight?” It occurred to her after she’d asked that she could likely figure it out on her own, just by examining nearby signs. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to rise from her disheartened hunch; not yet.