by A.L. Lowe
"No, it's broken, take your shekel," growled Jonas, giving the vending machine a final kick. He had already managed to dent the side and puncture the lower corner, but the last kick was somewhat halfhearted. He stared at the machine forlornly.
"Keep it. We may find another," said Kevin. He leaned toward the dirty plastic front. "Think you're better off. Nothing in there looks particularly fresh anymore."
"Could just break the thing," Jonas grumbled, perching his massive frame awkwardly on the small curb in front of the car.
"There's a station not so far from here," said Kevin. "And Miles'll drive."
"I don't wanna wait. I want it now!" Jonas slapped his palm into the car.
"Whoa there, let's not break anything else," drawled Miles. "Couple minutes without cuddles will be okay."
Jonas kicked a stone and muttered "Heartless" beneath his breath. Kevin grinned, grabbing on to the big man's shoulder and pulling him up and toward the back seat. Miles cranked the engine, letting it hum for a moment before shifting backward in to the road.
"He's not heartless, he just doesn't like cuddles," Kevin explained conversationally to the morose Jonas, who sat low in the seat and stared out the window.
"Just think cats oughta have claws. And eyeballs," drawled Miles.