The Renewal

"What can we help you with today?" Deborah, according to her nametag, asks from her seat from behind the transaction window.

"Driver's license renewal," Dave responds.

Deborah presses a button.

With a whir and click, a receipt proudly proclaiming 2727 prints and the Deborah passes it through the opening at the base of the window.

"Have a seat and listen for your number," she says as Dave picks up the paper.

"Thanks." Dave nods.

Deborah doesn't respond.

With a sigh, and a deep desire to not be here, Dave walks to his left to the right side of the lobby and takes a seat in the empty row of nine seats against the wall facing side B of the DMV.

As Dave sits, he looks up to see a child staring at him.

The boy, who simultaneously looks 4 and 64, is standing nine feet away in front of the seat directly facing Dave's. The boy's right arm rests on the empty stroller and moves with the stroller every time his mothers absently mindedly rocks it back and forth.

Dave offers a tight, but kindly smile and wave to which the boy has no reaction.

Dave shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looks to the right and left, and then resettles on the blank and stone faced stare of the boy.

With a single exhale puffed through his lips, Dave turns his attention to his phone to randomly scroll through anything he can find.

"What are you in for?"

Dave nearly jumps out of his seat and stops himself from uttering "the fuck?!" at the older man who is now sitting right beside him.

"Just... you know..." Dave stammers.

"Right. Right." The old man nods thoughtfully. "I, for one, welcome the distraction. Get's the mind off things. Like how my Betsy has made a cuckold of me."

"Sir. I don't..."

"I should have known it would happen when I hired Atticus. You know the type. Handsome. Muscular. Good hands. Bright and shiny smile. Absolute specimen of a man. But I needed the help, you know? Now Atticus is the only one that can get milk from my Betsy."

"What?"

"Want to see a picture of her?"

Before Dave can respond, the old man has his wallet out and a picture of a dairy cow mere inches from Dave's face.

"That's a..." Dave, face pulled tight like he tasted something strange, looks from the picture to the old man.

"That's my Betsy Ross," the old man sighs. "I still love her, though. Despite it all."

"Your cow's name is Betsy Ross?"

"Kind of funny how the two most important women in my life have the same name, isn't it?" The old man chuckles and shakes his head.

3039... Window 5A

A digitized female voice calls over the speakers.

"That's me!" The old man stands and waves his receipt like he just won bingo. "Good luck, son!" he says before ambling off and disappearing behind the wall of side A.

Dave re-centers his line of sight, only to see the boy still staring.

"Settle down, Hubert," the boy's mother whispers harshly and exasperatedly. "Mommy's very tired. Fine. Here. Here's your lollipop!" She hastily rips the clear cellophane away from the translucent yellow disk and puts Hubert's left hand around the thin white stick of the sucker.

Hubert, never removing his gaze from Dave, unhurriedly places the candy in his mouth, removes it, raises it to his eye like a monocle, then slowly turns it as if focusing a lens. He then extends his arm, causing the fluorescent light above to shine through into Dave's eyes.

Dave winces and averts his eyes as a flash of yellow momentarily distorts his vision, which clears just in time to see Hubert drop the lollipop.

The candy lands on the black and gray fibrous carpet. The type that is installed in squares so it can easily be swapped out instead of cleaned.

Hubert, right hand still on the stroller, gaze unwavering, lowers himself to pick up the sucker, and promptly puts it back in his mouth.

"God..." Dave mutters, lowers his head and places his thumb and forefinger on either side of the bridge of his nose.

"Rough day?" The slightly scratchy voice of a woman asks.

"Something like that." Dave sits up and looks at the woman next to him.

She looks maybe late 50s. Well put together. Skirt, blouse, heels and pearls. She pulls a pack of Virginia Slims 12os from her handback and lights one up.

"I don't think you're supposed to smoke in here," Dave says.

"And fill the fresh air outside with smoke?" she responds. "Nonsense. You should take up a vice, honey. Relieve some of that stress you carry. This takes my mind off of the worry about my husband, Z. I call him Z, because his name is nearly unpronounceable. He's foreign, you know. He goes on long business trips and all I can think about is if he doesn't return. Or he's having an affair. He's a handsome man, you know, so I can't blame other women for pursuing him. He's supposed to pick me up from here, you know. But he's late. And..."

A vibrating hum emanates from outside, and a large, metallic, egg shaped craft lowers into the parking lot and opens up, revealing a tall, slender, almond eyed being.

"There's my handsome, Z!" the woman exclaims. "Sorry to cut things short, honey." She hands Dave the cigarette, and hurries outside to embrace her husband.

Hand in hand, the two enter the craft, the door sealing behind them, before the craft propels itself straight up and gone.

4087... Window 2A

Hubert's mother stands and the two set off, Hubert walking backwards, still staring at Dave, until he and his mother pass behind the wall.

Dave lets the cigarette self extinguish, leans back, then closes his eyes.

2727... Window 9B

"Finally."

Dave swears he smiled for the photo, but it's the grumpiest he's ever looked.