I sit in the rubble like a goddess of the earth, my tanned skin glistening in the dim light. My full lips are pressed together in a snarl of pain, and my sharp cheekbones seem chiseled from granite. I'm wearing denim shorts that are dirty, and a plaid men's shirt is unbuttoned to the knot, filthy, as I step out of the wrecked car. The rust and salt textures on the metal seem to mingle with mine. In the background, the ghostly silhouettes of ancient ruins loom like ghosts, their edges bleeding into the fog like memories.