The prison complex eerily resembles the U.C. Berkeley campus.
She smiles, pulls out her laptop from her backpack, and shows me a sex film.
The wall clock ticks like chirping crickets.
I see what now appears to be her ghost sift in and out of the candlelight.
I stare into my illuminated reflection.
I cannot prevent the cold sweat from starting to pour down my forehead and onto my open script.
The flappers all look over their shoulders like they have been disturbed by a cold breeze.
I open the cargo hold hatch, while holding on tight.
LUH from “THX 1138” is driving an egg shaped vehicle like from the movie, “Sleeper.”
I see that my Le Mans has been delivered finally.