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The rain picks up, pelting the van and rapping on the ceiling like a fast-paced drum. Water seeps through the window seam and trickles down the door, flicking moisture on your clothes. The sun is now hidden by thicker clouds, and as you travel further and further from your home, the rain slows until only the threat of it lingers in the air. The smell of pine permeates, sickly sweet in the aftermath of the quick storm.

"Thanks again for keepin' me company," Uncle Lou says. "I know you're busy and all. Great that you could help me out."

"You're welcome."

Moments pass as the road merges into a paved highway, and you feel the comfortable reprieve of a bumpy, bouncy ride.

"I know you need to get out and do a mission. I respect that," Uncle Lou says. He tilts the seat back and lays his arms across the top of the steering wheel in a lazy pose. You suspect some meaning beneath the surface of Uncle Lou's statement and reply…