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Anisha surrendered. She opened the car door and slid into the passenger's seat. Her best friend knew her well. It had been a while since she'd shared a mutual interest with a man. She was hoping it was Tyson. She wanted to hear his voice. If you would only long to hear My voice. But it's a still, small voice you can only hear if you draw closer to Me. I have so much to share, and if we would spend more time together, you'd learn more about both of us. Sherri backed out of the parking space and began a slow crawl through the neighborhood. She twisted off the top of a soda bottle, making an awkward attempt to sip, steer, and shift gears. "Why are there so many doggone speed bumps in this complex?" she asked between gulps, easing over another one of the raised slabs in the road. Less than fifty yards away, two boys racing on dirt bikes darted from behind a row of bushes, whipped across the street, and jumped a nearby curb. "That's why," Anisha said. She pulled down the sun visor mirror, then dug around in her purse for a tube of lipstick, unaware Sherri was picking up speed as she crossed what used to be the last speed bump before the management added an extra one earlier during the week.
At the last minute, Anisha remembered the newly installed speed bump near the complex mailboxes. "Wait," she cautioned, but the warning came too late. The car jolted over the cement mass, sending Sherri's red soda splashing against the window, down the steering wheel, and into her lap.