Local woman Nessa Thompson insists that she never bothered getting a licence because she lives near the city anyway.

For the most part, having no licence has done little to harbour her life, except for the odd few occasions a job ad listed having one as a requirement. That, and the little stab of embarrassment she feels whipping out an 18+ card at the bar under the judgemental gaze of a bouncer.

Still, the small rehearsed speech she has ready to go whenever someone makes a remark about her lack of provisionals suggests that deep down, Nessa knows it’s embarrassing that a twenty-six-year-old woman doesn’t know how to drive. But hey, she’s technically saving the environment by taking public transport.

Unfortunately, today’s impromptu trip to the beach can’t be reached by bus and is far too much to Uber. 

Of course instead of outwardly saying she needs a spot in someone’s car, Nessa tries to pretend she’s not the only person in the group chat who doesn’t have a transport option.

“Haha, how are we getting there?” 

When no one answers, Nessa throws in a remark about chucking some petrol money, before going through the group chat list and finding the weakest member to personally ask for a ride.

More to come.


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