The Department of Motor Vehicles exists in a reality separate from the rest of the world. In their universe, everyone is always upset, every photograph is terrible, and the end of one line is merely the beginning of another. People perceive time differently, too. Seconds feel like hours and hours feel like days. It’s a place where people’s afternoons go to die. The entire building is covered with a rain cloud of misery, frustration, and inefficiency. They make it easy to pay a ticket or give them money, but when it comes to solving a problem, you’re always in the wrong line. When your number is finally called, you get a glimpse of what a lottery winner must feel like. However, instead of millions of dollars, you’re rewarded with someone’s dismissive instructions to come back another day because the person who can help you only works on Tuesdays from 2-2:30. Also, since your registration is now out of date, you’re not technically allowed to drive home, and you can’t leave your car here either.
On your walk home, you’re run over by someone taking their driving test.
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