Finally, I find one at the back of a laundry room and burst through it. The rain is louder out here, but it doesn’t fall. The air is colder, but there’s no bite to it. Disorientated, I blink, trying to clear the tears blurring my vision. There’re stacks of boxes, and tools hanging from a pegboard. The smell of gasoline and burned plastic rise from the damp concrete floor, then I realize I’m in the garage. And so is Gabriel.
