"I'm getting out," she said.
"I haven't the slightest idea how much farther to go, or why," said Michael shrugging. "It's all the same. Dirt and hills and mountains and sun and dust. It's really not much different from being out in space. We live in the car just like in a space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?"
They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill.
"The air smells clean," he said.
"The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it."
Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back."
"Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop.
He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road somewhere, with the dust between my toes. Or was it a dream?"
"I guess when the past is old enough," she said, "it becomes a dream."
He watched her footprints in the dust. "God, listen to the quiet."