The smell of expensive, yet mediocre, coffee wafted through the air as Goode Callen drove her beaten up ‘64 Cadillac down the abandoned highway.

Months had passed since she’d drank any kind of coffee, lousy or not, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Goode was wondering where the smell was coming from. But, she had bigger fish to fry.

A few miles down the road, Goode jumped out of the car, letting it sputter out its last breath of life. With a furtive sigh, she collasped onto the hot tar, waiting for some kind stranger to pick her up.

“If only I’d listened to Austin when he told me that cars need gas…I hope I don’t have to wait long; I’m famished,” she said absent-mindedly.
“Excuse me, are you lost?” asked a stranger.
“How can I be lost when I don’t know where I’m going?” Goode laughed.