Cordelia sat in a hot, sticky room. She briefly stopped what she was doing to pull her dark, straight hair into a ponytail. Despite the fact that the door at the bottom of the stairs was left open, the cooler air from the floor below did not find its way into the attic.  A mix of cardboard and plastic boxes filled the room. Cordelia was in the middle. She already searched through three of those boxes, the evidence littered the floor in the form of papers, index cards and folders. It was while she was going through the fourth box, which was situated directly in front of  where she sat on the floor, that she found a yellow floppy disk. Cordelia stared at the object. As the box she was going through was filled with photo albums and pictures in frames, the disk was out of place. The box to her left supposedly held computer related items—written across the side were there words, ‘computer junk.’

After she stood up, and with the diskette firmly in hand, Cordelia strode across the room and bounded down the stairs. She walked through the hallways of the old house and down a second flight of stairs. When she reached the first floor, Cordelia walked into a large empty room. In the middle of the floor was a stylish handbag. She slipped the yellow object into a side pocket before lifting the bag and placing it on her shoulder. 

The front door swung open seconds before Cordelia reached it. A young man of average height, with average looks walked through the door. His brown eyes fixed on Cordelia.

“Where are you running off to?” The man asked.

“I found something.” Cordelia said.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” 

“It’s a floppy disk.” She said. Cordelia reached in her purse and pulled out the object in question. “I’m not sure how it got into one of the boxes.”

The man plucked the disk from Cordelia’s slender brown fingers. He looked closely at the disk before pulling the silver metal at the top. He watched as the metal piece sprung back into place. “I used to love doing that as a kid.” He said as he repeated the motion.

“I know. Every time one of my disks went missing, I’d find it in your room.” Cordelia said. She snatched the disk from his hands and placed it back in her purse. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Cordelia walked out of the door.

“You know we have to finish this before mom comes by.” The young man said.

“Sam, you and I both know there is no way we are going to finish cleaning Gran’s house before mom gets here. The woman was a pack rat.” Cordelia unlocked the door to her car and ducked into the drivers side. 

Sam watched the car speed off down the neighborhood road before closing the door. 

Cordelia pulled into the nearly empty lot of an auto repair shop. A vintage car was painted on the front window of the building. Cordelia unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. She stepped out into the late evening air, a drastic contrast from the attic she was in half an hour earlier. When she opened the door to the shop, a bell rang to alert others of her arrival. The waiting area was empty, the only sound came from an older television set. Cordelia looked at it and tilted her head. Music was coming from the set, but the picture was a bunch of grey static lines. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up.” A voice said from the back of the room.

Cordelia jumped slightly and turned around. Standing in the doorway to the garage was a man, possibly in his thirties. He wore a blue jumpsuit with the name ‘Bill’ stitched on right side of his chest. His pale hands, covered in grease, held a red cloth.

“You scared me.” Cordelia said. 

“I know.” He laughed. His grey eyes roamed Cordelia’s figure from head to toe. She was wearing yoga pants and a loose, vintage, Carolina blue UNC t-shirt.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I’d kiss you, but you’re covered in grease.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” He said walking over to where Cordelia stood.

“This is true.” Cordelia laughed. 

He stopped in front of the petite woman and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her closer and leaned in for a chaste kiss on her lips. “Hi.” He said.

Cordelia smiled. “Hi.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“First, tell me what the hell is going on with your TV” Cordelia insisted. 

“It’s a video.”

“With no picture?” Cordelia asked.

“I couldn’t bear to throw it out once the image playback failed.”

“Is there something wrong with the TV?”

“No, just that particular VHS. It has one of my favorite Motown Live episodes on it. Since I really only like the music, it’s perfectly fine that the picture doesn’t work.”

Cordelia shook her head at his explanation. “Only you Trent, only you.” She patted his chest and then stepped out of his arms.

“So, back to my original question. What are you doing here? I though you and your brother were cleaning out your Gran’s house.” Trent said.

“We were, but I found this.” Cordelia fished in her purse for a few seconds before pulling out the yellow floppy disk. She handed it to Trent with a raised eyebrow.

Trent laughed. “You found this at your Gran’s house?” He turned it over and his grin grew wider. Written in a teenager’s penmanship was ‘To Cordelia -Trent Myers.’

“Yes. I’m assuming you know what’s on it.” Cordelia said.

“I might have an idea.” He laughed. “Do you?”

“How would I? Even if there was still a computer at Gran’s house, I guarantee you it did not have a disk drive. I came here because one, it has your name on it, and two, this is the only place I know that still has a computer with a disk drive.”

“And you wanted me to get a new one.” Trent said.

“I still do. However, I admit your ancient technology may be of some use.” Cordelia said.

Trent nodded his head. “Come this way, milady. The computer’s in my office in the back of the garage.” Trent turned back to the entrance he came through. Cordelia followed. The music from the video could be heard over the speakers in the garage.

“I really don’t understand how this place was designed.” Cordelia said as they walked across the garage floor. She took care not to trip over a discarded tire iron.

“Careful, I should have put that back when I came to the front.” Trent said pulling Cordelia to his side. He helped her avoid the tire that was sitting next to the tools.

The pair walked into an office. Inside there was a desk with a computer and three chairs, one behind it and two in front. Trent sat down in front of the desk. He wiggled the mouse and the screen came to life. Cordelia pulled one of the two chairs sitting in front of the desk around to the other side. She sat down.

It took a moment before the icon appeared in the “My Computer” folder. Trent double clicked on the miniature image of the disk. There was one file on the floppy, a Microsoft Word document titled ‘Tire Iron.’

“What is that supposed to be?” Cordelia asked.

“Read it and see.” Trent opened the file. Inside was what appeared to be a poem.

My Cordelia

My heart is so full,

It belongs to you,

You have it in a grip,

A grip so tight,

I’d need a

Tire iron 

To set it free

Cordelia laughed. “How old were we when you wrote this?” 

“Thirteen, and you wouldn’t even give me the time of day.” Trent said.

Cordelia’s smile reached all the way to her eyes. “How did it get to my Gran’s house?” She asked.

“I left it there, hoping you would find it and be curious enough to see what was on it. Obviously that didn’t happen.” Trent said.

“Babe, I did find it and I was curious.” Cordelia said.

“Over twenty years later.” 

“But I found it, and I’d hope even a tire iron couldn’t ‘set it free.’” Cordelia said.

“Not a chance in hell.” Trent said. The pair sat for a moment as Brian McKnight’s “The Only One For Me” began to play in the background from the front television.

Cordelia laughed. “You didn’t plan this did you?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“The song?” Cordelia pointed at one of the speakers.

Trent laughed too, “No I didn’t plan it. But I told you, I like this episode a lot.”

“So much so that you’ll stick it in the VHS player when the video doesn’t work.”

“Exactly.” Trent said.

Cordelia shook her head. “Trent, never change.”