You open your eyes. Behind your head is the cold metal door of an old car. In your hand is a small object. In the distance, you hear a loud roaring noise, but it is so deep in pitch that it fades to the background.
A young boy stands before you, holding a stick. He must have been poking you just now. When you move, he jumps in surprise. You stand up and look around. The car behind you is old and rusty. Near it, there are some old barrels, bright orange and made of metal. You’re still holding something metal in your hand. The boy looks at you expectantly.
