Harper stood in front

of the bathroom mirror

and smoothed her tan skirt

below her knees.

She adjusted her navy blazer.

She painted her lips red

and fluffed her long, dark hair

that spiraled to the small of her back.

Harper grinned, winked at herself

and turned off the light.

Harper knew better than

to put herself down,

so she accepted what she saw.

She moved over the cream carpet

to the kitchen.

The coffeemaker percolated.

Harper opened the ash cupboard

and shifted glasses

to find her white mug.

She poured warm pumpkin

spice coffee into her mug.

She crossed the kitchen,

opened the fridge, swooped,

and grabbed a half gallon of whole milk.

Harper looked at the expiration date.

She tipped the jug and splashed a taste

of dairy into the mug.

She returned the milk and returned

and opened and closed a drawer for a spoon.

She stirred coffee and tossed

the spoon into the sink.

Harper sat at the cherry maple

kitchen table.

The news played on the large TV

as she read a newspaper

to drown out the lousy news.

She put a slice of coffee pound cake

on a white napkin.

She ate and sipped caffeine.

She’d start her new job today,

and butterflies knocked

around in her stomach.

Harper looked at her watch.

It was time to meet her new boss.

She grabbed her light beige coat

and looked at the oak-framed family pictures

on the maroon living room walls with beige trim.

Her dad would be so proud of her.

Harper set the house alarm

and closed the door behind her.

An autumn breeze brushed across her face.

She slid into her Jeep, started

the engine to life and turned up

‘90s R&B.

She crunched over gravel

and crisp gold and red leaves

from bare willow trees.

Harper looked left and turned

onto the highway.

The just-risen sun shone

softly on the city streets,

bringing with it a flurry

of early-morning activity.

Harper finished college

last fall and returned

to Yakima to work

for an investment firm.

Harper’s modest upbringing

led her to cherish each day.

Harper grew up in a blue-collar neighborhood

where people looked out for their neighbor

and attended church on Sundays

only to rush home to watch the game

on a large screen.

Harper watched her dad work himself

to death in the mill.

Harper drove by her old home

on the east side now and then.

It was a small white three-bedroom house

with black trim and a fence that she helped

her dad paint when she was ten.

Harper’s father kept the yard cut

and red rocks in the flower bed.

A Douglas fir rested in the backyard

near the maple gazebo.

Before she ran off with another man,

Harper’s mother named her Harper

because she knew she’d someday find

her way to a piece

of the American Dream.

Harper listened to LØLØ

on the stereo when her

engine overheat light

blinked like a shaking leaf,

forcing Harper to pull

her Jeep to the side

of the highway.

Harper sobbed before she thought

to call someone.

Cars swooshed by.

She noticed folks talking

on their phones, presumably, about

the fights from last night.

Harper moved her sleeve across her

damp blue eyes.

She unleashed a string of expletives

as exhaust bellowed

white smoke, sending

a cloud of fluid hissing

through the Jeep’s hood

on the first day of her

job in September.

Harper made eye contact

with a man who skimmed

over his shoulder

and veered to the shoulder.

Harper thought the man came from money

because of his black Benz and executive demeanor.

Logan told her he grew up in a four-story home with six bedrooms.

He went to college and founded an investment firm afterward.

When he traveled to the office, he’d take the 405.

Logan exited his truck and moved close

to the white line to avoid clusters

of approaching headlights.

He rapped his knuckles on her window.

Harper grabbed her chest and turned in his direction.

“I’m Logan.” He gestured. “I wanted to give you a hand,” he said. “Pop the hood.” he motioned.

Harper reached to pull the lever.

She got out, closed the door, and moved to the front.

“I’m Harper,” she said, wrapping her long hair around her neck.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, opening the hood.

Warm radiator juice splashed against

his face like a wet blanket slapping the floor.

Logan moved his sleeve across his eyes.

Harper covered a smile.

Logan’s gaze eased into a serene glimmer.

He unbuttoned and shook off his dress shirt.

Harper gave him a sultry once-over

and gulped as her heart raced

through the nervous stutter

etched in her voice.

Harper fetched a wrench from her trunk

and handed it to Logan.

Logan wiped the sweat from his brow,

finishing tightening a loose screw.

He caught her in the corner of his eye,

biting her bottom lip.

Logan knew Harper drooled for a taste

of the sweat pooling on his neck’s ridges.

Logan motioned for her to twist the key.

Harper moved to the car, smoothed her skirt,

and slid into the car.

The car turned on and cut right back off.

Harper slapped the steering wheel with her left

and right hand.

“I’m going to be late,” Harper said, lifting and lowering her arms. “This is my first job out of college.”

Logan noticed a new hire folder

bearing his company’s name.

Logan offered to give Harper a lift.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Harper sniffled.

Logan told her that’s what bosses are for.

Harper narrowed one eye. “That’s not funny.”

“Neither is being late.” Logan winked. “Harper Carson, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m Logan Michaels.”

“The owner of Terris Enterprise?”

Logan nodded.

“I’m not the late type.” Harper motioned. “Like at all.”

“I’d say you’re right on time,” Logan said.

Harper blushed.

Harper moved her loose bangs behind her ear. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Sir?” Logan laughed. “I own the place, I don’t work there, at least not at the office.”

“So, I could take you for a cup of coffee later?”

“Yes, but I’ll drive.”

“Fair enough.” Harper said.

“Let’s get you to work.”

“Shouldn’t I call someone to tow it?”

“I’ll take care of it for you,” Logan said. “I’ll let your supervisor know what happened.”

“He won’t be mad, will he?”

“He knows better than that.”

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040