The desert’s dark belly sliced by the twin beams of light. It is a yellow Cadillac roaring in pain; afraid. Behind its wheel, Paul. Bespectacled, thinning hair, hunched over the large steering wheel. He whacks the heating controls again. The radio comes alive to the sound of Beethoven. Paul draws a sharp, icy breath that burns his lungs and nearly chokes him. He coughs clouds of condensation. Beads of sweat break out on his forehead. His foot feels cramps tease in protest to the violence with which he presses down on the car’s accelerator. Light flashes. The Cadillac lurches; empty.