I left my car at the top of the hill and drove up to get it. They were both my car. When I got out of the one I was driving, it disappeared. Instead of gravel the lot was filled with colored plastic bits - checkers and tiddlywinks and broken game pieces, dolls, firecrackers gone dead and black, all of it crunchy underfoot. I spun in a circle listening to my feet making noises. I pretended I was standing still and it was the trees who were moving. They were an unbroken dark blur until I stopped, wheeling and sick, and now I was looking at the art supply store I'd been looking for for so long. They had paper-mache fish in all the windows, just like the ones I wanted to make.