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Her mother was her security, her confidante and friend, how would she survive this journey she was about to undertake without her mother's guidance and help.
The blackness of life without her mum yawned like an abyss in her mind, almost too awful to fully comprehend. She shook her head as if to banish the thoughts from her head and started the engine.
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She checked all the mirrors and lights (enough gasoline? Yes. Good.) And proceeded to make a turn around the circular drive.
But before she was even halfway to the road, a bump and a muffled "pop" made her wince. She tried to ignore it, but the steering became hard to handle, lopsided and precarious. Swearing softly, she cut the engine and climbed out of the car. The passenger side front tire was flat.
She swore a second time, kicked the offending tire and stomped around to the back of the car and wrenched open the trunk.
"Spare tire? Spare tire?" she muttered. Then she lifted the carpet at the bottom of the trunk. According to the owner's manual, the spare would be stored there.
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