Pinkerton

My car was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Roommate's boyfriends are good for something after all. Pinkerton? Yes, that is his name. He is ugly. He is a pain. But I love him. And I rescued him from someone who confused his gender and had the gall to call him Athena, Warrior Goddess. And now he is in pain. It hurt him every time I shifted, using all the strength in my right arm, which, let's face it, isn't that much. But still. And yesterday when he was billowing clouds of smoke which made it hard to see, I felt like he was throwing up. Poor Pinkerton. It doesn't help that all his paint is coming off. Dear Pinkerton,
If you get better, I promise to be nicer. I promise to paint you a lovely boy color, not the pink I've been threatening. I promise to clean you out more often and not throw my water bottles into your backseat. I promise to vacuum you every week and not let there still be autumn leaves on your floors in March. And I will even get your right headlight fixed from where that girl's hubcap knocked into it. I know it's been giving you a headache. I promise to get you covered parking next semester when the snows come. I promise to stop abusing you and start treating you like you deserve. Promise.
Love,
Your Reyna