We Only Have One Rental Car

You're not entirely sure what draws you to the skate park; you can feel that there's someone there would understand you, or at the very least listen. When you get there, there's someone sitting at a bonfire, which almost feels right among the graffiti, half-pipes, and mini bowl. 

They had a car parked on the concrete, and they promised to give it to you in exchange for your story. You needed to get away, and so you talk—

You talk and talk until you worry that your throat is going to give before you say what you have to say.

When you finally stop, the owner tosses the keys at you and says that it's your turn to borrow it. They're done for now; they want to stay here. You look at the keys before staring at them.

What do you do?

> You drive.

Release 0.1.09: You arrive at a strip mall that feels vaguely familiar. You think it'll be a great place to think. Maybe you'll meet someone from your past. Maybe you'll smoke; maybe you'll walk into the only building that seems to be lit (or will you tempt fate with the one whose emptiness you feel?).

No matter what, here's no guarantee that your burdens will ever let you leave.