And she’ll sit there. She’ll rust, fall apart. In a junk yard in a small town. Kids will pass by, run their hands along the rumpled metal that lost its shine after one too many rains. The grass beneath her is pale and dead. No one will look at her and give her a second thought. It’ll be that car that’s always been there. But really, there was a time, so far back that no one can remember now, when two boys rode around in that car. They drove for so long, all their lives, wheels hot, and the windows rolled down. Old songs that no one knows the words to anymore. So many memories cling to the falling paint, and the worn leather. About the two boys who loved her. Who were good. The ones that saved the world a few times. Who fought the monsters people refused to see. But, of course, they were also the boys who died.