“I’m not staying here, honey.” Marilyn folded her arms as her husband pulled the car into the car park.

Brian just gave her a withering glance. “Look, I have been driving all night and I need to take a break. It’s not like you can drive so I can rest in the car.”

“Just look at the state of that sign. It looks forgotten and neglected.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It has all of its letters which is more than can be said for many of these cheap motels.” He took the keys out of the ignition and made a move to get out of the car.

Marilyn pursed her lips. “I am staying in the car.”

“I am too tired to argue.” Brian slammed the car door and stormed in the direction of the reception.

“Finally,” Marilyn muttered as she fished in her handbag for the spare car keys. Her escape had taken a lot of planning on her behalf. She sent a text message to her friend to say that she was on her way and then she slid into the driver’s seat.

It was not that she couldn’t drive, but that she wasn’t allowed.

Written for flash fiction for the purposeful practitioner