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a few brownish stains and springs poked through the fabric here and there. Coco curled up on the mattress and stared up at the sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the stars. Or the last time she hadn’t been on stage at night. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The sun beat heavily on Coco when she awoke. She could feel sweat pooling inside her plastic garment. She was wholly disappointed to find that she was, in fact, still at the dump.
    She sat up and looked around. “Well, fuck…”
    Rudy buzzed over from a pile of rotting food where he had been feasting. He looped around her head and weaved around her arms. “You smell delightful.”
    Coco doubted that very much. She longed for the sweetness of her favorite cotton candy-scented body spray. She rose slowly and spent a few moments stretching her long body like a feline. She was delighted to see a pile of discarded clothing nearby. She dug through it for something to wear.
    Almost all of the clothing seemed to have been damaged in a fire. The fabric crumbled in her hand when she touched it. The only article that was somewhat salvageable was a singed bridesmaid’s dress. A pink one. It had tiers of ruffles, and a large scalloped sash that cut across the chest. It was dreadful.
    Coco unwound the plastic bags from her body. Small streams of sweat poured over her breasts, and down her torso and legs. She stood naked for a moment and let the breeze dry and cool her before she slipped into the pink ruffled monstrosity.
    “Always the bridesmaid,” she said.
    The dress tightly hugged her frame. It had cheap plastic boning in the bodice which pushed her breasts up in perfect mounds and stabbed at her ribcage. She shook the neckline of the dress vigorously from side to side to adjust her cleavage. There was a section running up from the base of the dress that had been burned out completely and left a large gap up the side. Coco’s leg was exposed almost to the hip.
    Rudy landed there and paced the charred fabric with three sets of rapid feet. “This part sort of smells like bacon…”
    “Bacon? Why would the dress smell like bacon?” Coco asked.
    “Because someone was probably still wearing it when it caught on fire.”
    Coco looked down at the dress in horror but realized that she had few options. It was this or stifling plastic. “Fuck it,” she said and began walking again.
    They traveled for hours until they came to a large crumbling stone barrier and a rusty wrought iron gate. A small wooden shack stood to the right of the gate. Its planks were crumbling with dry-rot. Large sections of its walls were missing, which made it more like a lean-to or a booth.
    Coco and Rudy approached a large, cracked cashier’s window at the front of the structure. It seemed silly to Coco to have to use a window when there were so many places along the sides to just step right through.
    “Hello?” Coco called. There was no response. No shuffling or creaking. Not a single sound of life inside. She knocked on the window. The glass rattled against the pane, but otherwise, there were no sounds.
    She walked around the side of the building and peered through a hole in the wall. No one was inside, and the room was completely empty. Weeds had grown between the floorboards. Coco stepped inside and the wood splintered underneath her weight. She tumbled gracelessly to the floor.
    Rudy laughed.
    She stood up and dusted herself off, feeling foolish. Clearly, no one was inside the building. She stepped back through the hole in the wall. She heard a low, mechanical whirring sound outside—like gears or fans—some kind of machinery. She couldn’t make out just what it was.
    Coco followed the sound to the outside corner of the house. With each step it got louder. She stopped before she turned the corner, suddenly afraid of what she might find. Deciding she had to see what it was, Coco rounded the building. Her ears were assaulted with a shrieking “BEEEEP!! BEEEEP!