The old truck in the yard is now the only thing that reminds me of you, Rusty. There were happier days when we played hide and seek in the interior laughing till our insides ached. It is now rusting away like all things not properly cared for. A coat of paint would have saved it and maybe you, if you had taken the trouble to paint it or even look at me once in a while. But nobody cares about old rusty trucks and old women, and surely no one will care to look at the mound overgrown with grass underneath.