Claire awakens and thinks first of her red Audi, then of her fiance’s Jaguar. She thinks thank god he’s not one of those BMW jerks. She thinks about the accident she was in last year, with the eighteen-year-old Honda, its rust patched with fraying duct tape. The woman who hit her was her age, twenty-nine, she remembers. Claire thinks about ambition, about material desire. She thinks about Kate Stevens, the girl who rear-ended her Audi. Claire rolls over and goes back to sleep. She dreams of a field of dandelions reaching out to the horizon.