The first light flooded a tsunami into her eyes. She opened them slowly to minimize irritation. It was useless because Dolores had realized that there was no avoiding another day. All she wanted was to stay in the warm laundry haven of her bed. But she knew that the moment she set foot, her whole body would feel the cold shock of the real world. The cold shock pierced her, but she didn't respond or react, she couldn't let him win. narrow corridor with maple floor, it seemed to chill her bones every time she walked. The light that beckoned through the bedroom's floor-to-ceiling windows was still, almost painted in place, motionless in his presence. She continued as the house creaked like it was about to break but remained locked in place. She entered her bathroom which still had a faint smell of her late husband's cologne. She tried to decipher the voice speaking to her through the now creaky door; could it be his? But sometimes she wondered if that sound was the sound of her heart, beckoning her to cry out every day. The door of the Pontiac GTO clanged behind her. It had been his pride and joy. He had completely restored the engine. As the engine revved to life, she could smell fuel. When he came home from work every evening, it was the smell that announced him. She had always loved and hated the smell at the same time. It was now a painful but comforting feeling. The Pontiac factory loomed far off the road, with towering smoke stacks like swords, and there the constant crackle of GTO smell sounded like a million wounds at once. She had always remembered the day she received the call in the middle of her C period math class, no...... in the middle of a sheet...... she thought it was was an eye sore. The only thing she liked was the white patch with the black words sewn on it that proudly said Mark Santos, Machine Operator, Pontiac Plant, #71197 Detroit, Michigan. As the uniform looked at her, she noticed a handkerchief sticking out from the left side. chest pocket. She couldn't help but sniff the scent before giving it to Mark. He took the handkerchief. and wiped his face without a word. “Do you need a ride home?” Her eyes lowered as she asked the question. Why don't you come to my house tonight? She saw a small nod. life once more, and once again the smell wafted around the car. “Damn, lady, something is wrong with your car….” She didn't answer, because she was dizzy by the smell which, for once… made her happy as she was. at the controls of the car, traveling the road that is no longer, dark and distant.