Intern Thinks I Am Her Driver

Every day since her orientation, she’d been hitching a ride in my car after work. I figured it was on my way home anyway, so I never made a fuss about it. I’ve always preferred to keep a low profile, and if a twenty-two-year-old needed a lift to the suburbs, I wasn't going to be the "mean boss" before she even knew who I was.

Then came two o'clock on a Sunday morning.

I was dead to the world, deep in the kind of sleep you only get when your phone is supposed to be on Do Not Disturb.