"The engine stopped working here," "The engine stopped working here," he said, running a hand through his hair.
He mentioned he had abandoned the care at this spot when it was no longer useful. Beyond that point, his recollections seemed to blur into a haze.
"Then try harder to remember that part," I urged, annoyance creeping into my tone.
"I'm struggling to remember," he admitted, then instructed me to open the back seat as he appeared to wrestle with the border of his memory. When I did so, I found it packed with items I have only seen in televisions.
A bunch of books written in a language I couldn't understand, a collection of crafted paper dolls, a cross, rosary, and a stack of red and yellow papers with something that looked disturbingly like writing in blood.
"You have a lot of these exorcist tools," I observed, rummaging through his stuff. "What am I looking for here again?"
