I was in the desert. It seemed like New Mexico. A river nearby, trees with scraggly, gnarled trunks and thin, tiny leaves that gave no shade. I was driving through the desert on a long road trip. It felt like I was driving from Houston to California. I pulled over and parked the car in a kind of state park, but right at the entrance by a wooden sign. I went to eat some food, and then walked back. I stopped under a tree and it started raining and on the other side of the river or creek, there were little houses and kids running in and out, the doorways blocked by sheets or not blocked at all. People were staring at me, but not in an aggressive way, just out of curiosity. I headed back to my car and as I got closer saw that all my bags were half in the car and half out. I ran to the back and saw my backpack and my suitcase open and ruffled through. I must have left the doors unlocked. I opened my wallet and all the cards, everything was missing. And as I got in the car I saw I had a ticket for $100. It said $100 in big letters with lots of check marks. I got in the car, jumped on the freeway and frantically called the card company but I couldn't remember the bank number. I remembered an old bank 800 number from the 90s and called it, but the man on the other end only handled bank business in the Phillippines so since I dont live in the Phillippines, he couldn't help me. I was trying to copy down the number for my bank, but I couldn't hear him well and I kept forgetting what I was trying to write down when I opened my eyes and realized—very thankfully—that I wasn't in fact robbed and I didn't have to pay a parking ticket or deal with the chaos of a stolen wallet.

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