We connect on Tinder and agree to meet at my designated first-date spot: the art museum. But car trouble on his end results in a change in plans, and now I’m taking him. I pick him up and am scouring the crowded streets for a parking spot. Four years attending a small-town college, mostly carless, wiped parallel-parking knowledge from my mind. “Here,” he says after I’ve failed several attempts. “Let’s switch spots.” I hesitate. We’ve never met before today. Am I going to let him drive my car? But when I do, he talks me through the steps, re-teaching me.
Linnea Peterson is a queer, disabled Minnesotan writer. They’ve published poetry in FLARE Magazine and fiction with Duck Prints Press; their debut novel is forthcoming.