They found her unconscious at some freight yard the bureau. Wondered where her mind was when she decided to hop the train. Forced herself to pry her eyes from the looks of sheer disdain. Dreamt the tracks were breaking in the early winter rain. We're all our own vehicles, pulling forward into the night. Brake lines weary, wires snapping, failing in the arms of our archetypes. Destinations the same, absconding on a whim. I came in with memories that only I'll forget. She watched the inborn systems eventually give way: her wiring was infernal, a machine built to break. The trembling in her hands was overbearing. A book containing words that she'd been keeping: Letters from the Earth, assorted writings. And what are we, if we're nothing but coincidence? I came in with Halley and I'm going to leave with him.