(i.)

It honestly didn't matter where they were going; the simple fact of the matter is that they were going somewhere.

She didn't even mind being cramped in the passenger seat of her own car -- a 1992 Volvo, that she had painted gray.

She didn't care; she was on a road-trip, to the ever-elusive "elsewhere".


At least, that was the original plan. The one they had before the gray '92 Volvo broke down somewhere on the Garden State Parkway.

They sat, patiently, waiting for either a tow truck, or a kind stranger.


[Chapter ii]