"I found my guitar!" shouts a voice from within the site, and she looks up. The clouds break for a moment, and the warehouse is illuminated--not a ruin, as she expected, but in all its decrepit, neon-festooned glory. The windows are intact, and the roof still holds. There is music coming from inside, and strobes lance through the night illuminating the outline of a young man carrying a guitar by the neck.

He is naked.

"You're naked!" she yells at him.

"Yeah! It's so cool!" he replies. "I'm naked! And I got my guitar! Whoo!" He strikes a pose with his guitar, and she entertains the notion of ripping off her top. "I'm a fucking rock star! Thank you, Rochester, and good night!"

She applauds happily and he takes an awkward bow. Another cloud passes, and the world is dark again. She is crouching before a muddy puddle, watching her reflection against the roiling clouds above her. She looks up and sees that she's before the ruin of a warehouse. Its tumbled walls rake the racing sky, and the windows are dead, gaping holes.

"Gotta go back," she says. Tears well up, and she can't quite remember why.