You're driving down Sunset in a rented Miata looking for something...anything. It's not a town you could really see yourself living in, you know, the whole "it's a great place to visit" thing. It's been a couple of hours since you landed, by now you're all cleaned up - still a little groggy from the flight, but still steady enough to take on the night. For a while you just turn onto the streets you've heard of on television, just trying to kill time before you've got to show up to the front door of a party you don't want to go to for a person you don't want to see. There's no making any sense of the radio stations so you dig around for some kind of diversion. A loose CD is rattling around in the passenger's side door. It says "To Ashley, Love, Tony." The first song is a slinky dance floor lullabye that flickers like the rhythmic passing of streetlights. After pulling to a stop in front of the house, you write "Breathe In Tact" on your hand. You take a deep breath, shut off the car, and head to the front door.
Cale Parks, Breathe In Tact
— Joseph Tirabassi