The sun had finally dipped below the horizon when you reached the Hooverville you called home—you walked the familiar route and found yourself standing in front of the small little shed you lived out of. Little ways away, you saw the lantern illuminating the old car, the one Joe Rantz lived out of.

Taking cautious steps over the gravel, you poked your head into the open door, seeing Joe laying on his back, reading a book about engineering.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, smiling.