As soon as she hung up from Poppy, she’d dialed 9-1-1. “I want to report a crime. My car was stolen!” The woman that answered the phone at the dispatch center took her information and promised to send a patrol car over to her house. She’d put a message out over police radio to the officers on the street to be on the look-out for the stolen vehicle, she told her, as soon as they finished their conversation. Carmella paced and then went back outside to look at her driveway as she spoke to the police dispatcher. Perplexed, she stood staring at her white car. She was stunned. “Umm, hold off on sending that police officer. It’s back, my car is back.” “What? Your car is in your driveway? You’re telling me it was gone, but now it’s there?” The police dispatcher wasn’t sure what was going on, but didn’t have time for shenanigans. She stared at the white Mitsubishi. She spoke meekly. “Yes, it’s back.” Was she going crazy? It wasn’t there just a bit ago, but there she stood, looking at her car, the one that was parked right where she’d left it.
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