She was last seen in the soccer field. She went there when she was a child. She is still a child. It is all weeds now.  Everyone else is gone or leaving. The old factory is still standing by, as empty as a house.

She was last seen lying on her back, cheek pressed against the black top of the highway, all yellow streetlight and blinding headlights. Small town, summer night, a crown of weeds and flyaways.

Trying to stifle a giggle, she forgot to scream.