Moment of Silence, Please.

On my bedroom floor lies my Washington license plates. Mt. Raineer in blue on a white background with years and years of tabs pasted into a colorful and careless pile. Bugs plastered onto the front one. They went everywhere with me. Never complained or wanted a soda. And now they lie on my floor, betrayed. In their place? Nasty orange and ugly blue Utah plates. They glisten with their brand-new quality. A shiny single layer of stickers saying that I have paid for my right to drive here.

I had been preparing my car for this moment for weeks. Apologizing. Explaining that my tabs would soon expire. That I had to do this. Pleading with her for weeks to forgive me for what I would have to do. She knew it was coming. But it didn't make it any easier. She's a Utah car now. And it's all my fault. I'm sorry, little friend. I'm sorry.