Gift from the divine
The man in the BMW revved his engine as we both waited for the same parking slot in central London. It was Christmas Eve and very busy.
‘I need that space, I’m running late,’ I muttered. I had last-minute shopping to do, needed to nip to the supermarket for a few bits and pieces for the next day’s big family dinner. My stress levels were through the roof.
Seeing an opening, I shot forward into the empty parking space – but as I squeezed past the man’s BMW, I felt a bump.
Oh no. I’d clipped his car.
I bit my lip as I looked helplessly at the small dent I’d made
