I sit in the crooked chair next to the cracked plaster walls. It's my favorite place to sit and think about things. I can think about anything I want here. Sometimes when I think, I'll look out the window at the rain and ask it questions. I like talking to the rain because it will always answer, it will never judge me for what I think, and it will never stop answering me. However, this time, I'm not thinking. I'm waiting for my mommy who's is in the kitchen right now making dinner from the food we bought this morning. I'm excited to know what she's making. She's always been really good at cooking. Someday I want to cook just like her. I see Mommy coming out of the kitchen. It's really early for her to be done with dinner so I wonder what she's doing. I jump out of my chair and run to her, my feet tapping on the floor.

“Mommy, are you done already?” I ask, my big eyes twinkling with question. I hope she's done. I'm hungry! Sadly, I see her shake her head no.

“Honey, can you drive down to the store and buy some more basil? It seems I forgot it again.” She smiles sheepishly. I smile at her and nod. Silly Mommy, forgetting the basil! She always does that.

“'Kay Mommy! I'll be back in a little while!” I say as I grab the worn keys off their rusty iron hook on the wall. I wave at Mommy, then walk into the dusty garage.

I look around me at everything in the garage. There's nothing much in here, just a few extra chairs and a small table. There's a box of extra clothes under the table if Mommy or I ever needed any. The biggest thing in the garage is the car. It used to be red and shiny but it's really old now, so it's gray because the paint chipped off and you can see the metal. There are a few scratches and dents on it's left side from when I almost crashed, too. Despite all the flaws, it's a good car and it comforts me. I think about things when I'm in the car, too. When I talk with the car, I think it understands me. I like it because it's old and wise, and it always gives me good advice. It doesn't speak as much as the rain, but I think I like a rare wise statement more than a constant chatter anyways.

I walk over to the car and stick the keys into the left side door, turning them until I hear the familiar click that signals that the car is unlocked. I open the door and climb into the driver's seat. I wrestle to get the door closed again because this is the side with the dents, which make it hard to shut the door right. I finally give up and leave the door slightly ajar. I sigh and slouch back in the driver's seat and slowly inhale. It always smells really good in here. That might be because sometimes when I sit here to think, I bring my coffee and a jar of peppermints and the smell probably stays even when I leave. I like it that way, the smell helps me think sometimes.

I sit there in the driver's seat, the familiar smell and coziness of the car helping my thoughts move freely. I remember the first time I drove a car. Daddy taught me how to do it two years ago, when I was four. He told me how to steer and how to go really fast. I remember the way he smiled. It was a little bit crooked but there was always happiness in it, especially when we drove together. We had so much fun together, zipping like lightning all over the city, but then one night he disappeared. On the night he disappeared, I remember that a man came to our house and spoke with my mother. I was standing around the corner in the kitchen trying to be silent because Mommy had told me to go to bed and I didn't want her to get angry with me. I stood there, getting occasional glimpses of the man and my Mommy talking. Something inside me told me that what they were saying had something to do with Daddy but I couldn't hear exactly what they said. I think the man said something about a 'lack of workers' and something else about 'government' and 'taking people.' Then all of a sudden my mommy burst into tears. I was scared. Mommy had never cried before then. The next day she came and told me that Daddy had volunteered to work without pay in the underground farms and that we wouldn't see him again. I was really sad but I was happy too. My daddy would help feed people all over the world! I heard that the underground farms weren't a very nice place to work. It smells bad and it's stuffy, but I'm glad Daddy volunteered for it. He's so kind!

“Do you think Daddy is kind for volunteering?” I asked the car. However it didn't respond. It was probably sad about Daddy leaving, too.

I plug the keys into the ignition and turn on the engines, making a loud vroom sound. I've always liked that sound, it gives me a small rush of energy. I reach over on the dashboard and lightly press the button that opens the garage. It makes a squeaky noise when it opens because it's really old and Mommy hasn't fixed it. I should just find out how to fix it because, if I knew, I could probably do it myself. I grab the steering wheel with my left hand, feeling the cool metal against my skin. With my right hand, I grasp the lever next to me. I don't know what it's called but it makes me turn upwards and downwards so I can go higher or lower. My daddy told me what it was, once, but I forgot it. Maybe if he ever comes back from volunteering he can tell me again.

I snap out of my reverie and step on the gas pedal. Just like that, I'm off! I speed out of the garage and up into the air. I know my way to the store really well and it's not very far. I'll be back at the house really soon. As I drive, I hear the rain go pit pat pit pat on the roof of the car. It never really stops raining here. I used to like the rain a lot but when I was about three, I went outside without the car. When the rain touched my skin, it hurt really bad. It felt like my body was burning and it made me want to cry so I ran back inside to tell Mommy. She said never to go outside without the car because it's dangerous and I'll get hurt. Ever since that time I have only talked to the rain but I never try to touch it. I'm always afraid it will get into the car and burn me again. I don't go outside without the car anymore.

All of a sudden I see one of the other cars smash into the side of one of the skyscrapers that litter the world, creating a small explosion of orange and red, then leaving black smoke hanging in the air. I'm not surprised by the crashes. It's really normal and it happens all the time. It's just because some people are silly and drive too fast or don't know where they're going. It's not as if someone's going to remind you not to go too fast or tell you where to go while you're driving. At least they're smart enough not to take the shortcuts because, if they did, they would be dead in half a second! Some people do take those narrow shortcuts, weaving in between the buildings, but those people are all really good at driving. My friend is one of those people, so she takes me through all the shortcuts sometimes. It's fun! We go as fast as we want because I know she will never crash.

Up ahead I see the sign for the store flashing neon lights that say “Murphey's Bestcash Goods” I steer into the open garage and park in the same spot I always do. It's in the corner so it's never taken. I turn off the engines and push the door open, climbing out of my car and stepping onto the gray cement. I turn around and try to shut the door, only to have get stuck the wrong way. I heave the door back into place, slamming my body against it to close it. I really don't like that door, it's annoying. Maybe I can get someone to fix the door for me. My friend knows a lot about cars so maybe she could. I remember asking her one time how she knew about cars and she showed me an old manual on them. She said that they aren't sold anymore because paper is really expensive now.

I walk across the hard cement floor, my shoes making a hollow clopping sound that echoes through the whole garage. I head for the brown door on the other side of the garage and notice that it's a lot darker in here than usual. Another one of the lights must have burned out. All of a sudden, I see something move on the ground. Startled, I jump back but then realize that it's only a cockroach. It looks up at me as if saying hello then spreads it's wings and flies off. Cockroaches are funny. They're kind of big. The smallest ones are about three inches long but it's so cool how they can flatten themselves to fit into all sorts of tiny spaces. They're fun to hang out with, too. I have tons of them at home so I can talk to them any time I want. They usually answer by buzzing their thin waxy wings or chirping at me. Sometimes they judge me for what I say and run away. It's rude of them but I let them be, because I know they have their own opinions. Another thing about talking to them is that every time I do, I have to turn off the lights because they don't like the light.

I push open the heavy door and walk into the store, watching the floor change from cement to white linoleum. The bright light in the store relieves my eyes from the squinting they've been doing in the garage. I wave at the man behind the counter. He's really old, and I don't think he knows what a razor is either. His beard is so long that he braids it sometimes! But despite his overgrown facial hair, he's a really kind man. He sees me and smiles.

“Oh, 's you again! What 'dya need kiddo?” He asks, leaning over the counter.

“Mommy forgot the basil... again!” I reply with a groan. He laughs and rummages around in his drawer labeled “herbs.”

“I can 'getcha that 'n a jiffy!” He exclaims. He finally pulls out some basil leaves. “Here, 'ya go! 'An that would use up five 'o 'yer food credits,” he says, handing the leaves to me. He types some information into the food credit tracker, probably taking five off this week. We get a thousand credits to spent every week on food. Mommy says the government used to use paper as credits, but paper is expensive now, so they use computers to keep tract of the credits.

I see the man's smile suddenly fade. He scrunches his bushy eyebrows together and leans over to me. He whispers, “'Ey kiddo?”

“Yeah?” I whisper back. He seems worried. Why would he be worried? He's always happy, so today shouldn't be any different. What could be wrong?

“Ya' best tell 'yer mother this. Startin' next week, the government 'll only give 'ya eight hundred credits to spend. They aren't producin' 'nuff food in the undergroun' farms, so they need ta' cut the 'mount people eat.” He explained, his face showing disappointment and concern. My eyes widen in interest.

“They just need more volunteers, like my daddy. He was kind, the world needs more kind people,” I smile, thinking about my dads kindness and bravery. “Maybe I should volunt-”

“No!” The man cuts me off, his eyebrows are raised and his eyes are wide. He sees my look of confusion and sighs, letting go of his aggressive outburst. Now he looks tired and older than he really is. His tone turns deadly serious. “Kiddo, you should never volunteer for the underground farm. That's no way to live,” I tried to say something, but he wasn't done explaining. “You're father... he was... too kind. If the government ever asks you to volunteer, you need to get out of it somehow.” He says urgently. I wonder why he's so against them, maybe he's just not as kind as daddy. Whatever it is, I don't think I can change his mind.

“Okay, I won't go,” I give in. He nods, looking more reassured. He starts smiling again. I'm glad he's happy. Everyone should be happy.

“Well, tha's a relief! 'Ya bes' be on 'yer way now kiddo! Don't want ta miss 'yer dinner, do 'ya?” He chuckles. I smile a cheeky grin and skip into the garage, waving over my shoulder.

I watch linoleum change back to cement, and the store's heavy door closes behind me, leaving me in the dim light of the garage. I walk over to my car again. I'm halfway there when I see a cockroach scuttling along the ground. I reach down and pick it up, letting it sit there on my hand.

“Do you think I should volunteer to work in the underground factories?” I ask it. I expect no answer, but as soon as I finish the question, the roach jumps out of my hand, spreading it's wings and flying away to the other side of the garage. I stand there puzzled. They never respond that quickly. Is he just unkind as well? I suppose. I wish everyone was kind, so we could all live together in the world and work together. We would be happy. I want the world to be happy.

I walk over to the car and wrench open that ever frustrating door, climb in, and speed off into the night.