60/365: Ellen

Ellen was one of the most down-to-earth people I'd met. "Just because we're married, doesn't mean we're joined at the hip," she'd say, which was her excuse to ditch the husband and spend time with the horse instead.

For a summer she was my ride to work, and the reason why I'd spend my mornings in a maroon BMW full of women plotting their significant others' deaths. She'd weave in and out of cars on the freeway. Neither her odometer or spedometer worked.

Then abruptly she lost her job and fell out of contact. I've tried to look her up since, but I haven't had luck, which is unfortunate because I'm pretty sure I owe her $60 and it's been bugging me for three years.