She grabbed her bag and made her way to the car. Looking down the street, there was nobody to be seen. The driveway was long, so she walked quickly, avoiding making footprints in the snow. The thought of that smell stuck in her head. She needs it. Clutching her bag with her keys and wallet, and nothing else, closer to her, as she braces herself for black ice on the pavement. Finally approaching the car, she looks around. Still, nobody. She quietly unlocks the car and slips into the driver’s side. Shaking with the cold, she rubs her arms rapidly to heat herself up. She clutches the key from her bag and slowly, quietly, turns the engine over. The car hisses in response to the late February chill. She instantly shuts off the air, as it blasts her with an icy wind. Had she really been gone that long? She had a job to do. She had to make it before 10 AM. Sometimes, she found, in her anticipation, she often lingered at home the longest. She clicks the car into reverse, and eases off the brakes, slowly gliding into the road. She doesn't look over her shoulder- she had rehearsed this route. Also, no pedestrians would dare to be out at this absurd hour. To the left, in drive, avoid the mailbox, and try not to speed out of anxiety. She grips the cold leather wheel, her hands sticking to it like a tongue to a cold metal pole. The butterflies in her stomach fly in circles, as she nears her destination. At the light, she is alone. She looks for the sign, gleaming above the others. Such an obvious location for such an important endeavor. She tears down the street in her now heated car, and follows the sign in the sky, frantically turning to get closer. She goes the wrong way down an alley, turns left on red, even flies over some curbs. She slows as she finds the small building. One other car is there. Slowly pulling into the slip, she turns down the radio and stops a decent amount behind them. The voice comes over the speaker and demands what she came for. She gives her orders, and requests that the stock be replenished if not available. She needs what she came for. With determination in her voice, she stares up at the speaker. As soon as given the cue, she pulls further into the enclosed alley. Her brakes squeals as she halts. She watches the other car finish their business, a gloved hand extending out of the car pulling back in, as the vehicle moves out into the street. It stops, flooding her face with red light. She panics. Would she be stuck? What are they doing? Do they know she’s there? Her relief comes as the car gradually eases into the street and leaves. She turns to an opening in the building. A tall covered up man requests payment, and she asks, once again, what she owes for the item she had requested. He barks back her total, and she quickly rummages in her bag for her cash. She offers up her money and the man counts it twice. Then, he looks at her closely and walks back towards the other end of the building. The room, as far as she can see from the other side of the small opening, has intense flickering fluorescent lights, gross old tile, and loud occasional beeps. The man returns with the paper bag of the goods, and quickly checking the street, he hands it to her and waves her goodbye. She pulls away from the building, parking her car in an inconspicuous place. She looks around- she needs a place to get rid of the evidence. She finds a trash can in the lot next to the building and quickly runs through the snow to dispose of it.  Opening the back windows to remove any smell or trace, she sits in the car alone and opens the bag. In her hands lie a fresh McGriddle.