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Ashley hums softly, a comforting melody that fills the space as she carefully stacks women’s magazines into boxes, the glossy covers reflecting the light pouring in from the open windows. The thrill of her transgression was momentary, replaced by the steadfast determination to find Larry and offer whatever help she could. Cheyenne’s muscles rippled as she swept and danced, her bare arms pushing a broom back and forth against the worn wooden floorboards with a satisfying thwack. Navigating the labyrinth of Larry’s desolation, Cheyenne tiptoed with precision, avoiding the minefield of discarded pizza boxes and crumpled beer cans. The musty odor, which had become a permanent fixture in the room, began to dissipate as the fresh, crisp air rushed in. The first had been at a red light with a brown delivery van next to them. I bet you could slap them and they wouldn’t even bounce!’ Larry thought to himself.