Weekend Writing Warriors: A Poor Man's Car

Hey warriors, and welcome to another wonderful Sunday with Weekend Writing Warriors. I have been quite busy with editing, and sweating bullets over trying to get out some new stuff: I have so many stories, so many beginnings, but it's challenging to not only start, but finish them. Imposter is one of those short stories that I finished, and these are the first 8 sentences. Click on the cover to read the whole story. :)

The credit cards and some of the passports were next to him on the car seat. He drove an old Volvo, a 500 Dollar beat-up car, fully aware of the impression it conveyed to the outside world; metallic silver with a few spots of partly peeled off colour, bruises and bumps along the left side. It was a poor man’s car and he knew from experience, that because it was somewhat obvious for a poor man to also drive a poor man’s car, in many ways it was less suspicious than going the opposite route. No one ever suspected an imposter to actually drive a beat-up car. Imposter. He hated that word. It didn’t even come close to how he saw himself in the world. He was a good person, a likeable guy, someone who easily made friends with people; preferably women.