They drove toward the horizon. The air inside smelled of contagion. She crawled to the back and peed into an empty bottle. Sucker, she said.

The village was deserted. The car had rolled to a stop before a broken down hockey arena. The breeze was cold. I blame the Boomers, he said.

The dogs circled the house, hungry. Inside, she was busy calling him an idiot, among other things. He just sat there, thinking dark thoughts

The wind blew the front door open and she screamed and ran up the stairs and he looked at the people outside and gave them a big, big smile.

The flowers sparkle like jewels but only because he’s hallucinating and he’s hungry so he eats some flowers and craps in a dark parking lot.