The old car, an abandoned station wagon, was now his home. It sat in a copse of trees, on a slight hill near a creek.
Over the two years that he’d been there, he’d pulled out the seats and the steering wheel and added whatever materials he could find from his surroundings. It was there that he slept, and there that he began to have dreams of ‘her.’
He had no idea who she was, yet she comforted him, lightly stroking his face and pushing his long, matted gray hair out of his eyes. He would jump awake every time.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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