Oh yeah, this was the feeling… jumping, sputtering, floor the pedal, the speedometer is still falling, falling. Goddamn gas light. Fuse, wiring, whatever. It’s WAY cold for walking. It’s the kind of cold that compresses your nostrils when you breathe it. Your body doesn’t even want to take in air that cold. Coast to the next driveway. “National” or “United” or “Transnationunion” or whathaveyou mortgage office. Wow, shwanky building, holy hell I’d better go in, a place like this will tow me in a second.

One car in the driveway and I admire it as I walk by. Mercedes, E class maybe? A big dog, it’s idling but you wouldn’t know it unless you were right alongside it or saw the tiny plumes of steam coming from the dual exhaust. I get to the doors and they open smoothly but with the subtle feel that they must weight a ton. Solid wood and thick, thick glass.

I walk in and it’s grave quiet. No trilling of phones or midafternoon gossip, just a sharp familiar smell that shouldn’t be here. What is that?