“I have to find the key. I have to bring them back. Bring them all back.”

*across the emptying parking lot, the rural B&N’s lights flicker out—closing time. Beyond, all around them, a sea of corn, twisting in the night breeze*

“Let’s ... let’s get the fuck out of here. There’s no point.”

'Okay.'

*we turn and proceed toward the black on black 1983 Chevy Camaro waiting under the nearby lightpost, spotlit in warm yellow incandescence, throwing a long shadow to form a twined silhouette against the pavement*

'You drive.'

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3024465&forum_id=2Elisa#36162158)