Through the frosted passenger window, the world was still — a blanket of fresh, untouched snow piled over the parking lot like a white velvet shroud. The buildings around the lot seemed distant, as though the snow had softened not just the earth, but the city itself.

From the passenger seat, you could see her - Minji, her breath visible in short, impatient puffs. She was bundled in a warm coat with the fur-lined hood pushed back, revealing strands of highlights with jet-black hair clinging to her cheekbones. Her boots, black riding boots, were lightly dusted with snow. She reached for the ignition with a determined frown and turned the key over.

The engine made a reluctant whir-whir-whir-whir-whir, a tired, cold protest. She pumped the gas once, twice — a subtle rhythm of her boot pressing down, heel pivoting awkwardly in the footwell — and tried again. Whir-whir-whir-whir-whir... Nothing.

Her gloved hands curled tighter around the steering wheel. She gave a muttered curse in Korean and leaned back, exhaling hard. Then, more gently this time, she turned the key again. Whir-whir-whir - sputter - whir-whir-roar.

The engine caught.

A low, rough rumble shook the car. The Mustang, with its age and stubborn character, groaned awake, idling unevenly. White plumes of exhaust drifted from the rear like sighs of exhaustion.

"Come on, baby," Minji murmured, tapping the dash like coaxing an old friend. She put the car in drive, gave a feathering press to the gas pedal — and the tires spun. The Mustang rocked slightly but didn’t move.

She clicked her tongue and shifted into reverse, then drive again, slowly working the wheel side to side. The tires finally broke loose, but barely. The car crawled forward a few feet, then —

Stall #1

The engine sputtered mid-motion. A brief cough, a shudder, and then — silence. Her engine had stalled. Minji blinked, swore, and dropped her head to the steering wheel with a soft thunk.

From the passenger seat, the whole world outside looked still and mocking. The exit to the lot was maybe a hundred feet away.

Minji cranked the ignition again. Whir-whir—pause—whirrrrr—clunk. The engine hesitated longer this time. On the fourth try, the engine shuddered back to life. She didn't smile — too focused now.

She tried again, gently rocking forward.

The tires gripped for a moment. She inched forward another eight feet. Then —

Stall #2

The car bucked as if tripping over a snowdrift. A harsher jolt this time. The engine gave a choked gurgle and died. Her body tensed. She slapped the steering wheel with both hands, her breath fogging the windshield. The Mustang sat cockeyed in a patch of slush, one back wheel half-buried.

Minji bit her lip, turned the key again. Nothing. She tried again, pumping the gas, and after the sixth try, the engine caught with a ragged idle. She didn’t wait. Into drive. Tires spun, caught. The Mustang pushed forward another few feet.

Stall #3

Halfway there now — but just as she gained momentum, the car pitched sideways slightly, the rear tires catching a ridge of ice. The RPMs dipped — and the engine died mid-turn.

Silence again.

This time she screamed — not out of fear, but sheer frustration, head thrown back against the seat. Her breath came quick and fast. From the passenger seat, you could see the damp shine of sweat near her hairline despite the cold.

Minji didn’t wait long. She turned the key again.

Nothing.

She waited. A few seconds. Turned again. Whir-whir-whirrrr. Caught — barely. The car trembled like a creature near collapse.

She took a breath, moved forward, her hands tight on the wheel.

Stall #4

Fifteen feet left. Just enough to see the street beyond the lot. Her tires caught again — for just a moment — but then the car jolted as if snagged on something invisible. A rumble from beneath. The engine hiccupped... coughed... and shut down. A cruel stall. This one hurt the most — she’d been so close.

She leaned forward, gripping the wheel like she could force the car to keep going by will alone. Her breath fogged the windshield completely now. Snow was beginning to fall again — slow, soft flakes settling over the car like a second insult.

She turned the key.

Nothing.

Turned again.

Still nothing.

On the third try — it cranked. Weakly. Whir---whir---whir-------whir---whir---------whir.   Like a fading heartbeat. She closed her eyes, whispered a prayer — then tried again. The engine turned over, caught with a shudder. Her gloved hand stayed steady on the wheel. She didn’t move yet — just let the idle steady.

She exhaled. Eyes forward.

This was it.

She eased the gas, straightened the wheels, aimed for the plowed strip near the exit.

The car crept forward...

Stall #5

Five feet from freedom — the car lurched again. The engine whined. She feathered the gas. The nose of the Mustang cleared the snowbank, but the rear spun out, fishtailing. The RPMs spiked, then dropped.

The engine almost died.

She slammed the gear into neutral, foot on the gas, coaxing the car, hands shaking. The engine held on — barely. She shifted to drive and tapped the gas again, gentle now.

The Mustang inched forward, front tires grabbing the dry edge of pavement where the plows had cleared the road.

And then, at last —

It didn’t stall.

She burst out of the lot like a weary soldier stumbling through the last trench. The street, wet but clear, welcomed her.

Minji sat back, chest rising and falling. Her boots rested steady on the pedals now, her hands loosening on the wheel. She didn’t speak — didn’t cheer.

But a slow smile crept across her lips.

Through the passenger window, snow continued to fall.

Behind them, the parking lot lay quiet again — disturbed only by the deep tire tracks and the echo of a five-times-stalled escape.