Mazda Indian — Springs

The car was a 1973 Mazda RX-3, painted a faded “Strato Blue” that had gone the color of a twilight storm. Its Wankel rotary engine hadn’t turned over since the first Bush was president. Eli kept it under a tarp in the old service bay, next to a lift that hadn’t been certified since 2009.

“I’m the owner .” She pulled the leather cord over her head and set the key on the counter. It was an old Mazda key, the plastic grip yellowed and cracked. “My name is Loretta Reyes. I was eighteen when I drove that car up from Florida. Met a boy in this town. Left the car for ‘a couple weeks’ while I went to see my mama in El Paso.” She laughed, dry and humorless. “Couple weeks turned into thirty-one years.” mazda indian springs

Loretta raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?” The car was a 1973 Mazda RX-3, painted

She didn’t cry. But Eli did, just a little, watching her pull out onto Highway 19, the blue car shrinking into the distance like a piece of sky come unmoored. “I’m the owner