There is a thunderstorm outside (as in real life), and I'm looking out the front windows of our house. Suddenly a car, an older, tan Camaro, comes careening down our driveway, as if in a panic, at high speed and sort of swerving and knocking debris around. Somehow it doesn't hit my camper or the garage, and disappears into the brush behind.

I go out to look for it, and I run into a woman with a backpack who is familiar from the neighborhood. I greet her hesitantly... aren't you Christie? Yes, she is, and she's also investigating this car incident.

A different woman appears on the back patio, wandering as if dazed, and I suspect she's from the crash. "Are you ok?" I ask, inviting her to come inside and sit down. I offer her some milk.