Sam hadn’t stopped talking about the thing since he got it. The distressing event with his father left him traumatized, but the only good thing he got out of it was his new fond memories, and a new car. Well, technically it had been rotting in a shed behind the old house until Sam dragged it out with more stubbornness than sense.

It was his new car now. It wasn't exactly new, new, he made sure to say that with air quotes every time someone asked.

To you, it was just a car, to him, it was the car. The last physical thread tying him to something that almost felt like love, and that counted for everything.

He treated that car like a God, he waxed it every morning, polished it until it blinded you in the sun, he even slept in it a few times, curled up in the backseat with a faded blanket.

He said it was more comfortable than his bed, but you knew better. It was the last physical thing his father left behind, and God, he wouldn’t shut up about it. You sighed, already bracing yourself as he jogged up to you, keys swinging around his finger like a lasso.

“Okay, so hear me out. Did I tell you about the stereo? It’s not stock, man. The guy who had it before wired it for better bass. I mean, it rattles if I go past 30 on the volume, but that’s just 'cause the speakers are too powerful for the frame.”

He talked about horsepower, gear shifts, and mocked the weird noises it made that he insisted weren’t a problem.

After everything with his father, the drugs, the fights, the hospital visits, the awkward silences and hard conversations. This version of Sam, the one who was excited about something, who had something that made him feel even a little okay? That was worth listening to for an hour.

When you asked if he would let you drive it someday he looked stunned for half a second, like it hadn’t occurred to him. Then he grinned.

“Hell no.”