Good Trade

The gravel sounded crunchy under the Fairlanes tires. Beads of sweet were gathering along my forehead, making my bangs stick to my eyes. The two men waved, and pulled away. I smiled weakly, then turned to admire the new truck parked in its stead. I was happy, and sad. I knew it was time to let go. It was still difficult. That old car had been mine for a few years. I can’t count how many times I half-heartedly decided to sell, then changed my mind. This time I followed through, and it was good. He got the car he’d been looking for, and I got the truck I needed. Good trade.