Max stood by his new car, thoughtfully rubbing the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. A light breeze fluttered the piece of paper, clamped under the windshield wiper, as if mocking his confusion.

His gaze slid around the corners of the crookedly parked car and lingered on the note. White, slightly dented, with a bold pink highlighter, it looked like a challenge. He carefully took it out and unfolded it.

"I hit your car on Friday at 5:36 p.m. Call me when you decide to fleece me for every cent. In my defense, your car was parked crookedly. Perhaps we will have to figure out who is to blame here, Mr. Lines-for-Idiots!"

He couldn't help but laugh. He thought he heard her voice, cheeky, with a slight mockery. The laughter came out of his chest, unexpectedly loud, causing passersby to cast puzzled glances at him.

He ran his finger over the words "Mr. Dumb-Lines", underlined in thick pink marker, and chuckled. Yes, the girl had not only outlined her own guilt, but had also masterfully drawn attention to his own mistakes. The phone number was highlighted in the corner, circled several times, as if she wanted to make sure he would definitely see it and, damn it, call.

He clutched the paper in his hand, unsure whether to be angry or laugh even harder. She knew how to turn the tables, and she was clearly proud of it. He wanted to hear her voice, to hear her justify herself, with that same cheeky chuckle on her lips.

The laughter was still shaking his chest. God, whoever she was, she was not the type to keep quiet and apologize in submissive silence.

Max looked at her number again and couldn't help but smile, taking his phone out of his pocket.