I pulled up next to the white Honda Accord at the stop sign and signaled the driver to lower her window. She looked at me as if I might be a serial killer and lowered her window halfway.
‘You have a mug on your roof,” I yelled.
She smacked her head with her hand, smiled, opened her door, and retrieved the mug.
“I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” she said, laughing. “Have a nice day.”
“You too,” I said, and we drove away in different directions.